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ENGLAND, FRANCE, ITALY, 



IRELAND. 



REV. GEORGE FOXCROFT'^HASKINS, 

BECTOR OF THE HOUSE OF THE ANGEL GUARDIAN. 

FOURTH THOUSAND. 



I <5>C 3 869 

BOSTON: ^^"^aS^: 



PUBLISHED BY PATRICK DONAHOE, 

23 Franklin Street. 

1856. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Tear 1855, by 
PATRICK DONAHOE, 
In tlie Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



- ;_ STEREOTYPED AT THE 

•v^^ / BOSTON STEREOITPE FOUNDRY. 



TO 
THE RIGHT REVEREND 

JOHN B. riTZPATRICK, 

THE KIND FATHER AND SINCERE FRIEND OF HIS CLERGY, 

AND THE 

OF THE FLOCK OVER WHICH HE SO HAPPILY PRESIDES, 
THIS BOOK 

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 

BY HIS 

MOST OBEDIENT AND HUMBLE PRIEST, 

THE AUTHOR. 

(8) 



PREFACE. 



I HAVE not written this little book for the learned, 
nor to seek fame as an author, but to contribute a 
mite towards supplying a remarkable deficiency in our 
Catholic literature. The Catholics of this country, 
though for the most part poor, are fond of reading. 
Many religious works, and some few histories, and 
tales, and political essays are the principal books 
within their reach. Books of travels they have none. 
With regard to the customs and doings of other na- 
tions they have little means of obtaining information 
except from Protestant tourists. But their produc- 
tions, even the best of them, are so well seasoned 
with sneers and misrepresentations, perhaps uninten- 
tional, of the practices, ceremonies, customs, &c., of 
Catholic countries, that, instead of being instructive, 
they are pernicious and dangerous. As an oflFset to 
some of these journals and tours I have prepared the 

1* (5) 



6 PEEFACE. 

following pages, as the impressions and experience of 
a Catholic traveller, and nothing more. 

I made but a brief tour, and I have made a brief 
book. I trust it will prove a readable one, and serve 
as an inducement to others, better qualified than my- 
self, to send forth among our intelligent and reading 
Catholics other and more extensive and elaborate 
works of the same class. 

What Catholics need in this age of printing is good 
wholesome reading. They do not read for the sake of 
the style. They are not critics. Nor do they read for 
the discovery of new and startling ideas. They do 
not need them. But they seek for information. They 
love truth, be it never so old and often told. There- 
fore, whatever I could pick up on an excursion not 
of mere pleasure, but of duty, and along a route hot of 
my own choosing, but another's, I have endeavored to 
convey to the reader in as plain, straightforward, and 
intelligible language as I could. 

G. F. H. 

Boston, Christmas Day, 1855. 



CONTENTS. 



Chaptes Page 


Chapter Paqi 


I. — Intboduction, . 


11 


A Cave, 


43 


IL — London, 


12 


VI. — Rome, .... 


49 


Fathers of the Oratory,* 


14 


Ancient Romans, . 


51 






Decline and Fall, 


53 


III. — Paris 


16 


Catholic Soldiers, . 


65 


Hotel Dieu, .... 


18 


Churches, . . 


57 


School of Compassion, . 


20 


St. Peter's 


59 


Juvenile Offenders, . . 


22 


Canons at their Office, 


61 


Adult School, 


24 


Ascent to the Dome, 


63 


Reform School, . 


26 


Pio Nono, .... 


65 






"Washing the Feet of Pilgrims, 


67 


IV. — Lyons, . . 


27 


Holy Thursday, 


69 


Hotel Dieu, .... 


27 


Good Friday, 


71 


L'Hopital de la Charit6, (for 




Easter Sunday, 


73 


Old People and Foundlings, 


) 28 


Benediction at St. Peter's, . 


75 






Fireworks, .... 


77 


v. — Marseilles, . 


29 


Corpus Christi, . 


79 


Churches, .... 


30 


Roman Churches, . 


81 


Boys' Penitentiary, 


34 


Miraculous Conversion of an 




Orphan Asylum, . 


36 


Israelite, .... 


82 


Convent of the Capuchins, 


38 


Cicerones, .... 


89 


Excursion, .... 


41 


The Coliseum, . 


95 


Village Life, .... 


43 


Dialogue, .... 


98 


Queer Travelling Equipage, 


44 


Private Audience with the 




Eemarkable Grottoes, . 


46 


Pope, .... 
(7) 


100 



8 


CONTENTS. 




Chap. 


Page 


Chap. 


Paqb 


The Catacombs, 


. 101 


Pisa, . . . . . 


172 


Monuments of the Faith, 


104 


The Campanile, or Leaning 




Institutions of Charity, 


105 


Tower, .... 


173 


San Michele, 


106 


The Campo Santo, or Burial 




San Spirito, 


112 


Ground, .... 


173 


A Pilgrim, . . . . 


118 


Naples, .... 


174 


Political and social Aspect of 




Preaching, . . . . 


176 


Eome, .... 


120 


Bay of Naples, . 


178 


Americans in Rome, 


122 


Lazaroni, . . . . 


180 


The Romans, . 


124 


Tomb of Virgil, 


181 


Departure &om Rome, . 


127 


Grotto of Posilipo, 


182 






Pompeii, .... 


183 


VII. — Flobencb, 


128 


Biia, . . . . 


186 


Mount Somma, 


130 


ElysiaifFields, . 


188 


Foligno, .... 


132 


"Wonderful Fish Pond, . 


190 


Perugia, . . . . 


134 


Grotto of the Sibyl, . 


192 


Val d'Amo, 


136 


Mount Vesuvius, . 


194- 


Cathedral, . . . . 


138 


Herculaneum, . 


196 


Royal Gallery, . 


140 


Ride on Donkeys, 


198 


Tuscan Ladies, 


142 


Ascent of Vesuvius, . 


200 


Galileo, .... 


143 


Royal Museum, . 


205 


House of Industry, 


144 


Catacombs, 


210 


Boys' Costume, 


148 


Carnival, .... 


211 


An American Artist, . 


150 


Capri, .... 


212 


Protestant Ignorance, 


152 


LORETTO, .... 


212 


Prejudice, . . . . 


154 


Pilgrims, .... 


214 


Story of a Friar, 


156 


Visit to Firmo, . . 


216 


Chariot Race, 


164 


Trieste, ... 


217 


St. John's Day, 


166 


Incident at Ancona, . 


218 


Horse racing, 


166 


Venice,. .... 


219 






Description of Venice, . 


220 


VIII. — Genoa, . 


169 


Cathedral, . 


222 


Cathedral, .... 


169 


Churches, .... 


223 


Poorhouse, 


171 


Convent of St. Lazare, 


226 


Leghorn, . . . . 


171 


Milan, .... 


227 


The Medici, 


172 


Yankee Invention, . . 


228 





CONTENTS. 


9 


Chap. 


Page 


Chap. 


Paox 


St. Charles Borromeo, . 


229 


XII. — Ireland, 


255 


St. Ambrose, 


231 


Dublin, . . . i» . 


256 


The Emperor Theodosius, . 


232 


Institutions and Charities, 


258 






Daniel O'Connell, 


261 


IX. — The Alps, 


233 


Cork, .... 


265 


Perilous Ascent, . 


234 


Face of the Country, . 


266 


Military Roads of Napoleon, 


236 


Father Mathew, 


267 


Monastery of St. Bernard, 


237 


Milltown, . . . . 


269 


Dogs, . . . . 


238 


Killamey, .... 


271 


Philanthropists, 


240 


Gap of Dunloe, . . 


272 


Hotels, 


241 


Lakes, .... 


273 






"Waterford, . . . . 


275 


X. — Geneva, 


241 


Christian Brothers, . 


275 


Sunday, . ^ . . 


243 


Kilkenny, . . . . 


276 


Lake Leman, 


244 


Public Buildings, 


277 


St. Francis of Sales, . 


246 






St. Francis, Bishop of Ge- 




XIII. — Conclusion, . 


278 


neva, .... 


248 


Remarks on the Country, 


278 


Return to London, 


250 


Its Resources and Climate, . 
Its People, Immigration, 


279 


XI. — England again, . 


250 


Traits of Character, . 


281 


Convent Bill, 


251 


The Irish People in the Uni- 




Oxford University, . 


254 


ted States, 


285 



A JOURNEY 



THROUGH 



ENGLAND, PRANCE, ITALY, AND IRELAND. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTION. 



I HAD but a few hours to prepare. la these few 
hours my affairs were arranged, my trunk was packed, 
and at twelve o'clock on the 15th day of February, 
1854, I was on board the steamship Arabia, bound for 
Liverpool. 

We had fair wind, smooth weather, and of course a 
rapid run. We reached Liverpool in nine days and 
twenty hours. We " put up " at the Waterloo House. 
It is a first class hotel, and therefore, like all such hotels 
in the United Kingdom, as we afterwards learned, does 
much towards lightening one's purse. The only thing 
that entitles them to the appellation of " first class " is 
the enormous price at which every thing is valued. 

(11) 



12 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 

CHAPTER II. 

LONDON. 

We ■went to London by railroad, and took lodgings at 
'* Ford's Hotel, Manchester Street, "We were delighted 
to learn that this was not of the " first class." We had 
every comfort, and convenience, and luxury that we could 
desire. The venerable proprietor is a devout Catholic, 
and has gained both the esteem and the patronage of 
numerous Catholic prelates, clergymen, and laymen who 
have occasion to sojourn in London. 

Our impression of London is,' that it is a vast and 
"^^ vicious city. Mammon is its king, Venus its qiieen, and 
Bacchus its clown. These are the gods which the peo- 
ple of London worship. The buildings, in many parts 
of the city, are stores, brothels, and drinking shops. 
* The Sunday, indeed, is observed as rigidly as in New 
England, though not in consequence of any religious 
principle in the people. The laws are rigid, and the 
police effective and numerous. But the laws cannot 
compel people to go to church, nor can the police check 
in-door enjoyment. Therefore all the churches are thinly 
attended, and are useful only as sounding boards. They 
yield an echo to the voice of the preacher. The Catho- 
lic " chapels," however, are crowded with worshippers. 
They (Catholic worshippers) are forced to church by the 
goads of conscience. They believe it to be a sin to be 
absent from chapel on Sunday. So they go, Protestants 
believe no such thing ; therefore they go, or stay, as 
they please. And most of them please to stay. 

There is another thing that would be likely to strike 



OF LONDON. 13 

an observant traveller. Among the thousands tripping 
gayly to " chapel " were persons of every rank, — from 
the lord to the beggar, — in every sort of costume, from 
the costliest to the wretchedest — some in rags, some 
in tags, and some in velvet gowns. But among the 
" church " goers the velvet gowns had it by a unanimous 
vote. The fact is, that in London, and in Boston, and 
every where else, Protestants go to church because it is 
fashionable. But to be fashionable one must dress in 
fashion. But if one cannot, then one will stay at home, 
or go a frolicking. 

This is all the more remarkable in that the " churches," 
for the most part, are never open except on the Sunday. 
These Christians, taking the Bible as their " rule," 
maintain that it is commanded unto all men to work six 
days, and to rest upon the Sabbath day. Therefore, to 
serve God on either of these days, by prayers and re- 
ligious exercises, would be a manifest infringement of 
the divine law. The Catholic "chapels," on the con- 
trary, are open for the divine service every day in the 
year ; and every day, " from the rising of the sun to the 
going down of the same," is offered the incense of true 
devotion, and the " clean oblation." And every day the 
rich and the poor kneel together at the same altar. 

We paid a visit to the Fathers of the Oratory of St. 
Philip. Father Faber is superior of this house. He 
is one of the distinguished converts from the Oxford 
school. He is a noble-looking man, rather portly, and 
very cheerful. The buildings are large and commodious, 
and the grounds extensive and beautiful. Attached to 
the Oratory is a fine church, capable of seating one thou- 
sand persons. There is no unnecessary outlay of money 
in the building, and no pretence to ornament or elegance 



14 PATHEKS OF THE ORATOEY. 

about the churcli, save in and about the sanctuary. The 
edifice consists of four brick walls, plastered on the in- 
side, and an open ceiling exposing the beams and rafters 
of the roof. It is so constructed and placed that at a 
future time it can be enlarged to any extent that may be 
required. It is a church for the poor, and here the poor 
do congregate. To such the good Fathers confine their 
mission. May God bless their labors and prosper their 
work. 

I could not but admire their prudence in erecting a 
large, cheap, strong, and commodious church for the 
poor that gather about them. I wish their example 
were more generally followed in Protestant countries. 
Catholics are in such countries very poor, as the god 
Mammon showers his favors only on his friends and 
adorers. What call, then, have they to splendid 
churches ? what care they for cornices, and mouldings, 
and fret work ? of what utility to them are lofty spires, 
and mysterious domes, and curious, many-colored win- 
dows ? They do not go to church to gaze about, and 
wonder at the skill of artists and sculptors, but to assist 
at the august sacrifice of the mass, and discharge a duty 
of strict obligation. Our churches are so few, or our 
flocks are so numerous, or perhaps so poor, that many 
thousands are compelled to kneel in the streets around 
the church. Give us, then, churches large enough, 
where all the faithful of the parish, rich and poor, 
youijg and old, may find ample accommodation — where 
all can pray and assist at mass within consecrated walls. 
If we cannot aiFord to erect magnificent temples, let us 
build barns ; and if the rich will not come to the feast, 
let us send out into highways and hedges, and invite 
the poor and the hard-working laborer to come in. 



LONDON. 15 

One thing I will say of London, — and the same is 
true also of Liverpool, Manchester, and all the cities,- 
and towns which I visited in England, — and that is, 
that one hears scarcely any profane swearing or cursing, «> 
either among men or boys. Had it been a common 
practice I certainly should have known it, for I took 
special pains to listen and detect it. Whenever I en- 
countered a group of boys, by day or night, I made it a 
point to linger near them, to watch their games, to ob- 
serve their conduct, and to overhear their conversation. 
These groups consisted of from a dozen boys to several 
hundred. Yet never did I hear a single oath or blas- 
phemous expression. I suppose they do swear some- c 
times, but I did not hear it. How different in this land 
of the Puritans, freedom, and schools, and of religion ! 
We can hardly walk through a street in Boston, or New 
York, or Philadelphia, where boys do congregate, that 
our ears are not assailed with the most horrid and blood- 
curdling blasphemies. All the genius of the devil him- 
self is taxed to invent oaths and curses. Little boys 
who can hardly walk are heard to utter the sacred names 
of God and his Son with prefixes that the most impious 
of men dare not transcribe. Wretched children ! More 
wretched parents' who have been their instructors and 
examples ! Says our Savior, " It must be that scandals 
come ; but woe to that man by whom they come. It 
were better for him that a millstone were tied about his 
neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea, 
than that he should scandalize one of these little ones." 
Are our Catholics, workmen in their shops, or else- 
where, never guilty of scandalizing children ? O, if 
men could only know how long a bad word is remem- 
bered by the child hearer ! 



16 CHAEITABLB INSTITUTIONS. 

CHAPTER III. 

PAKIS. 

We took lodgings at the Hotel du Bon La Fontaine, 
where we were soon quite at our ease. We had com- 
modious apartments well furnished. We could go and 
come when we pleased, and eat and drink when we had 
an appetite. And the charges were moderate. What 
more could we ask of a hotel keeper ? 

The charitable institutions of Paris are very numer- 
ous, and in general well conducted. They are built on 
a generous scale. Large and lofty halls, wide corridors, 
and extensive grounds, are to us Yankees their most 
striking architectural ^ characteristics. An enlightened 
and Christian philanthropy has studied out and intro- 
duced all the modern improvements for the instruction, 
the discipline, and the bodily comfort of the poor, the 
afflicted, and the depraved. Some of these institutions 
are patronized or sustained by the government ; but by 
far the larger portion, and the best of them, are sup- 
ported by private munificence. These are the offspring 
of religion. To religion, therefore, is assigned the first 
and most important place ; to mental culture the sec- 
ond ; and to the temporal wants of the inmates the third. 
These last wants are satisfied in a way which would 
agreeably astonish an inmate of our Yankee poorhouses, 
and induce him to wish that he were a Frenchman. 
The duties of these departments are discharged by zeal- 
ous and disinterested clergymen, by competent laymen, 
and by Sisters of Charity, or other ladies of kindred 
orders of mercy. 



PARIS. 17 

The Hotel Dieu is a vast hospital for the sick and 
disabled. There are one thousand three hundred beds, 
most of them occupied. No remuneration is received 
for the care and attention bestowed on the patients, all 
of whom are poor. None are refused admission. Sick- 
ness is an all-sufficient permit. The inmates, though 
paupers, are treated with kindness, tenderness, and love. 
I have said, though paupers, and I am ashamed that I 
should feel obliged to use the expression. But the truth 
is, that we Anglo-Americans, inheriting the prejudices 
of our English progenitors, as well as their language, 
are too apt to regard the poor with contempt and dis- 
dain. They have no right to be poor ; and if poor, they 
have no business to be sick. We have poorhouses, it 
is true, but we make them as uncomfortable and wretched 
as possible. We treat the inmates as vicious vagabonds, 
who have become poor and sick out of mere spite. 
The very respectable gentlemen who are employed by 
" Friends and Fathers " to receive applications for ad- 
mission often treat them with harshness bordering on 
cruelty, refusing them with noisy sternness, or propos- 
ing to send them off to some distant island on the ocean, 
to associate with persons sentenced for crimes. But even 
here they enjoyed some comforts ; for they found officers 
over them that were human ; and, touched with their 
misfortunes, and edified by their virtues, gave them all 
the privileges and consolations that the laws allowed, 
which, truth to tell, were not many. So " Friends and 
Fathers," perceiving this, concluded that the " paupers " 
were too well fed, and liked to be there. And then they 
proposed that large dreary buildings should be erected 
in different parts of the state, and that all persons who 
were bad enough to be poor and sick — men, women, 
2* 



18 HOTEL DIEU. 

and clilldren — should be huddled into them, and made 
as uncomfortable and as wretched as possible. All this 
has been done ; and I believe that " Friends and Fa- 
thers " are quite content with every thing — except the 
appropriation bills. Well, Catholics are not as wealthy 
here as elsewhere, but God is as good and as great. 

But to return to the Hotel Dieu — a far more grate- 
ful theme. A poor man, of whatever country or creed, 
is taken sick in Paris. When notice is given, he is 
placed on a litter and taken to the door of the hospital. 
He is immediately received and examined by one of the 
resident physicians, and by him ordered to be washed 
and properly dressed, and then placed in a ward desig- 
nated by him. These wards are models of cleanliness 
and ventilation. He is committed to the care of a Sister 
of Charity, who becomes to him at once a mother, lavish- 
ing upon him all a mother's care and tenderness. She 
feathes his temples, she prepares his drinks, she humors 
his caprices, she bears with his foibles, she smooths down 
his bed, she administers to all his wants, by day and by 
night, with an assiduity and patience that nothing can 
disturb or stay. If he dies he is decently buried. If 
he recovers he is permitted to depart, and not detained 
forcibly, as if he were a felon^ to work out the charges 
for his board, nursing, &c., as, I am sorry to say, is 
usually done with us. 

The Hotel des Invalides is a hospital for infirm and 
superannuated soldiers. It is a princely structure, fur- 
nished with every thing that can minister to the temporal 
or spiritual comfort of the patients. Existence here is 
not regarded as a boon to infirmity, but rather as a re- 
ward of merit. The visits of strangers, instead of 
reminding them of dependence, fill them with a noble 



PARIS. 19 

and patriotic pride. Admission to the hospital they 
regard ahnost as a promotion, at least as a public ac- 
knowledgment of their services to their country. And 
so it is. 

In the church, behind the high altar, is the tomb of 
the Emperor Napoleon I. There is not in the world, 
probably, so large and beautiful a tomb erected to a 
mortal. The French people idolize his memory. Per- 
haps they have some reason. He certainly added much 
to the glory of France, and she is not ungrateful. The 
French people have elected his lawful heir their em- 
peror ; and though his reign may be less dazzling than 
his uncle's, we will venture to predict that it will be 
more popular and more enduring. - 

Three years ago was founded in Paris, by a zealous 
and charitable lay gentleman, M. Cotte, an institution 
for boys, called Ecole de la Compassion — School of 
Compassion. It was designed to fill a void that existed 
between asylums for the indigent and bereaved, and 
houses of punishment and consequent degradation. 
The subjects sought after were young boys plunged 
into the lowest depths of ignorance and vice, and for 
whom it would almost seem there was no hope of sal- 
vation. Of these some were the children of vicious 
parents, who were corrupted from their very infancy ; 
others whose crimes had brought them before criminal 
tribunals before they were old enough to know right 
from wrong ; and a third class utterly regardless of ad- 
monition, restless under restraint, rebels to all authority, 
plunging into crime for the love of it, and in many cases 
expelled from other institutions as incorrigible. Hence 
it appears that this school was established for boys the 
most depraved and abandoned in the streets of Paris. 



20 SCHOOL OF COMPASSION. 

"Whoever has visited Paris, and learned something of its 
population, can appreciate in some degree the difficulty 
of the task proposed, and the sublime charity of the un- 
dertaking. 

Yes, Christian charity ! She takes in her arms, and 
presses to her bosom, and nurtures with her own and 
not a stranger's or hireling's milk, those unhappy boys 
who, having breathed the infected air of the hovels in 
which they were born, soon go forth into the highways, 
and market-places, and public walks, carrying the infec- 
tion with them, and giving it to every other child pre- 
disposed to take it. What consolation does she offer to 
heart-broken mothers, and to desponding fathers ! What 
a soothing balm to the sorest Avounds ! Men would cast 
them out, would torment, would punish them, Keligion 
would embrace them and reform them. 

I visited this institution several times. I saw the boys 
in school and in recreation. They were healthy, active, 
industrious, and cheerful. Their obedience, docility, 
and rapid Improvement give consolation and encourage- 
ment to their friends, and a pledge to society. About 
the same time I visited another institution for boys, the 
name of which I do not recollect, which has only been 
in existence two or three years* It is outside of Paris, 
on the road to Issy. Its object is to provide a home for 
indigent and homeless boys. It was founded by a cler- 
gyman, who has associated to himself one or two other 
clergymen, and four or five devout laymen, who consti- 
tute a congregation, or brotherhood, entirely devoted to 
this work. The number of pupils at the time of my 
visit was nearly one hundred. They were all in school. 
I was pleased with the discipline, good order, ahd cheer- 
ful industry of the scholars. 



PAEIS. 21 

Each boy pays one dollar a week for his board and 
tuition ; or, if his friends are unable to pay, the means 
are provided by charitable persons, or by a society estab- 
lished for this purpose. 

At Passy, near Paris, is a celebrated boarding school 
for boys, kept by the Brothers of the Christian Schools. 
At the time of my visit they had six hundred pupils. 
They are instructed in all the branches of a " high 
school " education. The Brothers are accomplished men 
and excellent teachers. The annual cost of board and 
tuition is one hundred and twenty-five dollars. The dor- 
mitories were very clean and well ventilated. The refec- 
tories were passably so. The discipline was very good. 
The food given to the boys is abundant and wholesome. 
One hundred loaves of bread, each loaf weighing four 
pounds, are daily distributed. 

There are institutions in Paris of a different character. 
Their object is to furnish religious and intellectual in- 
struction and innocent amusement to young men and 
boys of the laboring classes — most of them shop boys 
and apprentices. They are supported by the society of 
St. Vincent of Paul. Buildings are rented, and the 
rooms are furnished with books, newspapers, writing 
apparatus, draught boards, &c. They are lighted during 
the evening. Pine commodious yards are attached, sup- 
plied with gymnastic fixtures. On Sundays and holy 
days Mass is celebrated and catechism taught in a large 
hall furnished as a chapel. Large numbers pass the en- 
tire day on Sunday, and at noon a wholesome repast is 
served. This is done to prevent their strolling about 
the streets and associating with vicious companions. 
Some members of the society are present whenever the 
rooms are open. Were such institutions established in 



22 JUVENILE OFFENDEES. 

the cities of New England, what a fine field it would 
present for their growth and prosperity ! How many of 
our young men are ruined, for time and for eternity, by 
a passion, in itself laudable, though, alas ! too often mis- 
directed, for knowledge, fame, and social enjoyment ! 
To acquire knowledge they read trash. To get fame 
they spout, and dispute, and sneer at religion, or permit 
others to do it. For social enjoyment they seek the bar 
room and the gaming table. Now, if they had within 
their reach the means of obtaining true knowledge, of 
expanding their minds, enlarging their views, and of 
procuring enduring happiness, we believe they would 
appreciate and use them. They would then become 
ornaments to society, and our truest and stanchest 
patriots. 

There is in Paris a house for juvenile offenders. It 
numbers about five hundred boys, of from ten to nine- 
teen years of age, committed for various petty crimes. 
They are taught useful trades ; they learn to read and 
write ; they assist at mass on Sundays and holy days. 
Therefore I wish I could speak well of the institution. 
But I cannot. It has adopted a system on principle. And 
though generally acknowledged to be a very bad one, 
it obstinately persists in upholding it on principle. It 
blasts and ruins its inmates, body and soul, on the same 
principle. The system is, solitary or cellular confinement 
by day and night. Each boy works by himself in his 
cell. He goes to school by himself in his cell. He eats 
by himself in his cell. He plays by himself in a cell 
yard. He goes to Mass by himself in a church cell. In 
a word, it is the execrable penitentiary system of Penn- 
sylvania applied to little children — a system rejected 
and abhorred by the whole civilized world as too cruel 



PAEIS. 23 

and painful even for hardened and incorrigible felons, 
and only sustained in Pennsylvania in defiance of public 
opinion, because it is a system. 

Its operation in La Roquette, as this institution is 
named, is just what might be expected. The boys looked 
sickly and depressed. It is dreadful to think what 
crimes — unutterable crimes — of thought and deed may 
be committed by these boys, when left all alone, by day 
and by night — initiated, as they must have been, in all 
the mysteries of the worst vices. The reports published 
show a fearful array of incorrigibles, of relapses, of 
idiots, of insane, and of deaths. They vainly and feebly 
try to gloss over and explain these appalling statistics, 
by long and tedious discourses upon the diseased condi- 
tion of the children before their commitment — as though 
half the juvenile crimes committed in Paris were by 
children who were fitter subjects for hospitals and mad- 
houses than for prisons ; not one word of which do we 
believe. The little urchins (gamins) of Paris are as 
stout, active, and adroit a set of rogues as ever picked 
pockets or emptied tills. And if the government, instead 
of taking them into its own unfeeling grasp, would com- 
mend them to the charity of private munificence, there 
would spring up an abundance of asylums truly refor- 
matory, whei-e the little vagabonds and villains, under 
pious instructions and paternal discipline, would become 
virtuous and high-minded boys, and ornaments of 
society. ' ' 

But let us turn away from this painful system, to con- 
template another which acts as a partial antidote to its 
poison. It is called the " Patronage " for juvenile 
offenders, {Jeunes Detenus.) Its object is to afford a 
temporary home for such as shall have been discharged 



24 ADULT SCHOOL. 

from " La Roquette/' and as soon as possible to place 
them out with proper masters to learn trades, and then 
to watch over them till they shall become established in 
life and in the practice of virtue. This is supported by 
a society of charitable individuals^ who contribute annually 
a certain sum. Many have been rescued from relapse, 
and restored to usefulness, by its vigorous and praise- 
worthy efforts. I was much pleased with M. Guillet, 
the superintendent, who is a mild, benevolent, fatherly 
old man. He has a brother, who, very oddly for a 
Frenchman, has become a Quaker, and resides in Bur- 
lington, N. J. His impressions of " La Roquette" coin- 
cided exactly with mine ; and he thought that the 
whole system ought to be totally aiid forever abandoned. 
The sooner it is done, the better. 

One evening I visited a model school of its kind. It 
was an adult school, for men, kept in the Marche St. 
Martin, by the Brothers of the Christian Schools- I was 
taken by surprise. Instead of some eighty or a hundred 
men, as I expected, I found eight hundred, all arranged 
in different halls, and in classes according to their profi- 
ciency. They were chiefly laborers, mechanics, cart- 
men, clerks, and apprentices. The greater part of them 
wore blouses. They sat like so many boys, in perfect 
silence, busily occupied either with study or with writing, 
reading, and arithmetic. In one hall they were learning to 
sing. As I entered each hall, making some noise in walk- 
ing, I thought they would turn round to see who was 
coming, as boys do. But no; not a movement — appa- 
rently not a distraction. If for that I caine, I might as well 
have staid away. When the men conduct well, and study 
hard, and strive to improve, they receive as a reward a 
small pious picture, which did not, perhaps, cost more 



PAEIS. 25 

than a cent, but which they are as proud of and as anx- 
ious to obtain as if worth a hundred dollars. I could 
not help asking myself, (I hope I shall be forgiven for 
it,) What sort of a school would this be if all these eight 
hundred men were New Englanders, mechanics, me- 
chanics' apprentices, truckmen, &c. ? The good Brothers 
are indefatigable. They keep school all day for boys, 
and all the evening for men. They appeared to me to 
be polished gentlemen and accomplished scholars. 

But of all the institutions which I visited in Paris, 
none interested me so much as that of St. Nicolas. I 
passed nearly an entire day, and a portion of several 
other days, upon the premises and in the class rooms. 
It was founded in 1827, by Monseigneur De Bervanger, 
for the purpose of affording an asylum and refuge for 
deserted, destitute, and abandoned boys. Workshops 
were opened, and trusty and skilful mechanics were em- 
ployed to teach them useful trades and train them for 
the battle of life. The great aim of the institution was 
to provide for the wants of these boys, a large portion 
of whom were orphans ; to inspire them with a love of 
virtue and of industry ; and to fit them, by the practice 
of their religious duties, to become one day not only 
good Christians, but also skilful workmen. It is an in- 
stitution of charity, because the sum demanded for board 
and tuition, one dollar a week, is so small as to come 
within the means of the poorer classes, and of those be- 
nevolent individuals and societies who have at heart the 
reformation and instruction of the destitute and aban- 
doned. How many of these boys, think you, are shel- 
tered, fed, and instructed in this home for the homeless 
and deserted ? A hundred or two ? More than that. 



3 



M HEFORM SCHOOL. 

Three hundred, perhaps ? More than that. Five hun- 
dred ? Yet more. There are at the present time more 
than twelve hundred boys in this mammoth refuge ! 
They are divided into two departments, a senior and 
a junior, according to age. I visited both depart- 
ments. All are governed by the same rule, and all are 
under the fatherly direction of Mgr. Bervanger. The 
two establishments are about half a mile apart. 

This institution is governed and disciplined by a con- 
gregation or brotherhood, composed of secular priests 
and laymen, who devote themselves to this work, with a 
single eye to the glory of God' and the welfare of youth, 
demanding nothing for their labors but a bare support, 
looking forward for compensation to the treasury of 
God. ' 

The first and great aim of the directors and teachers 
is, to infuse into the boys a love of virtue and religion ; 
the second, to impart elementary and scientific instruc- 
tion ; the third, to accustom them to habits of industry 
and teach them a profitable trade. 

The spiritual direction and religious instruction of the 
children is confided to the reverend fathers of the order 
of St. Dominic, who give four pious instructions every 
week. Catechism is taught every day. The scholars are 
divided into twenty classes, according to their age and de- 
gree of intelligence. They are not allowed to make their 
first communion till they have attained the age of eleven 
or twelve years. The singing and music at Mass and Ves- 
pers is performed by the pupils, under the direction of 
their musical teachers. I think I shall never forget the 
pleasure and edification with which I assisted at the 
Divine Ofiices at St. Nicolas, on the Sunday which I 
passed in the institution. It was in the chapel of the 



LYONS. -ST 

senior department. There were about six hundred and 
fifty boys present. All behaved with the most perfect de- 
corum. In discipline nothing was wanting. All appeared 
to unite in the singing, but without a discordant note. 
The time was so well observed that every word was 
articulated and heard as if pronounced by a single voice. 

In the schools are taught reading, writing, arithmetic, 
orthography, grammar, geography, history, book-keep- 
ing, drawing, geometry, vocal and instrumental music, 
chemistry, and natural history. Out of the schools are 
taught surveying, agriculture, horticulture, gymnastics, 
swimming, and various handicrafts. 

There are about twenty workshops attached to the in- 
stitution and within its precincts. Before the children 
commence their apprenticeship, their tastes, their prefer- 
ences, their physical strength, and their intelligence are 
consulted. I observed in passing through the shops a 
large number of boys employed busily in carving, cabi- 
net making, turning, musical instrument making, jew- 
elry, brass finishing, tailoring, shoe making, &c., &c. 
The boys are apprenticed for a certain number of years 
to master workmen, who pay to the institution, for the 
board of their apprentices, the same as is demanded for 
the other inmates. 



CHAPTER IV. 

LYONS. 



We visited a mammoth hospital — the Hotel Dieu — 
beautifully situated in the heart of the city, upon the 
bank of the Saone. It contains eighteen hundred beds, 



28 OLD PEOPLE AND FOUNDLINGS. 

and all sick persons are admitted, without distinction of 
country or of creed. Thirteen hundred beds were occu- 
pied at the time of our visit. The revenue of the hos- 
pital amounts to fifteen hundred thousand francs a year. 
In its construction it forms a series of lofty rectangles 
or parallelograms. We observed no less than twelve 
squares or court yards among this vast pile of buildings. 
In the principal building a large number of halls, filled 
with beds, radiate from a centre. In this centre is a 
beautiful altar, where Mass is celebrated daily, and the 
patients can assist at it, and see the celebrant, without 
leaving their beds. The hospital is served by two hun- 
dred Sisters of Charity and by five chaplains. 

We visited another hospital, called UHopital de la 
Charite, for old people and foundlings. In the aged 
department, none are admitted who are under seventy 
years of age. There were no less than five hundred of 
these old people in the wards. Most of them looked 
remarkably well, cheerful, and happy. Some were at 
work, others were chatting and laughing, and others 
playing at various games, like children. In the foundling 
department, two thousand are admitted every year. It 
was curious and amusing to see the babies, of various 
ages, lying along in windrows, looking much like the 
hammocks of a frigate in port. In a single bed, I 
counted ten lying side by side, all of whom had been 
received within two days. They all looked precisely 
alike, and it was a marvel to me how the good Sisters, 
could distinguish one from another without labelling 
them. 



MARSEILLES. 29 

CHAPTER V. 

MARSEILLES. 

The prominent feature of Marseilles is its port. It 
penetrates, like a very wide canal, into the heart of the 
city. Around this is concentrated the chief part of its 
commercial and industrial activity. We arrived in the 
night, and all were asleep and still. But in the morning, 
what a Babel of sounds assailed and stunned us ! There 
were fishmen and fishwomen in "schools" — boatmen 
and boatwomen ■ — sailors, of every nation, " pulling 
and hauling " — artisans of every description plying the 
hammer and the axe — all mechanical powers in noisy 
operation — ponderous wagons of most thundering con- 
struction — men, women, and children yelling to the 
very top of their voices, to outcry each other in selling 
their wares. The whole city seemed to be like a boiling 
caldron — or like one vast irresistible power propelling 
an infinite machinery. In the streets were plenty of 
cows and goats, and men and women milking them into 
pint pots for customers. Housekeepers here will have 
none but good milk, and they stand by and see it milked. 
I was much impressed with the singular antiqueness of 
the harness on the horses, and the vehicles. Here were 
asses not much larger than goats, laden with panniers 
as large as feather beds ; mules and Corsican ponies 
drawing wagons as heavy as long Boston omnibuses ; 
harness of the most fantastic patterns, rigged zigzag, 
like leather lightning, the large collar surmounted by a 
stuffed pyramid two feet in length, guarded on either 
3* 



30 CHURCHES. 

side by an enormous curved antilla or horn ;* all man- 
ner of costumes, from the sans culottes upwards, and of 
every nation ; streets, most of them narrow and dark, 
paved with stones a foot square, and without sidewalks ; 
women bearing burdens on their heads under which 
a man should stagger, and screaming loud enough to 
stun you ; and other deafening shouts and uproarious 
occupations innumerable. Every thing appeared as 
strange within doors as without. The lower windows, 
even of dwelling houses, all iron-grated like a jail. The 
windows are two-valved and turn on hinges, like doors. 
The floors are of tiles of an octagonal or sexagonal form. 
The stairs are of stone or brick, and the balusters of 
iron. 

The first day of my arrival, and during my first walk, 
I became so confused and wearied by this strange and 
discordant multitude of sights and sounds, that I hurried 
for repose and refreshment into a church. It was the 
Church of St. Martin. The rest that I wanted I found 
here. The jargon of confused sounds was heard no 
more. All was still as a summer's evening. No sound 
was heard but the soft, lengthened note of the organ. 
The church was crowded with devout worshippers. It 
was the evening exercise in the month of Mary. The 
priest knelt before the altar in surplice and stole. The 
acolytes were on either side. Presently the choir began 
the litany, Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison. The Mise- 
rere Nobis was sung by the whole assembly, as was also 
the Ora pro Nobis. I was overpowered with the sweet 
reminiscences of home. I was among my fathers and 

* Government has of late ordered these pyramids and horns to be re- 
duced in size, in order that they may get through the gates of the city v.'ith 
greater safety, (to the gates, I suppose.) 



MARSEILLES. 31 

my brothers. The young man that knelt beside me, I 
could have embraced hira as a friend. I was no longer 
in a strange land. I heard no longer words new and 
unintelligible. The words were the same, the swelling 
organ, the musical tones the same. There was the altar 
too, and the priest, and the surpliced boys, all the same. 
Blessed church of my fathers, I loved thee before ; will- 
ingly would I have given my life for thee ; but I love 
thee more than ever now. They always told me that 
thou wert unchangeable — now I know it, I feel it, I see 
it. All else may seem to the exiled wayfarer to change 
— all else cold and unfeeling — but thou art always, and 
in every clime, the same. The litany was ended, the 
last strains of the organ died away in the echoes of the 
vaulted ceilings, and all was hushed save now and then 
the sigh of a penitent or the clicking of a rosary. The 
benediction of the most blessed sacrament was given in 
silence. 

We visited many other churches. They are not re- 
markable for beauty. The Cathedral is very ancient. 
Indeed, at a little distance, a stranger might take it for 
a pile of ruins. It is said that in the time of Julius 
Caesar it was a temple consecrated to Diana. I have 
visited Marseilles several times, at intervals of from one 
to ten years, and I have always been greatly edified by 
the religious fervor and devotion of the people. Our 
Lord is seldom left alone in the churches. You may 
enter them at any hour of the day, and you will behold 
devout worshippers of every rank and condition, from 
hoary age to tender childhood, kneeling side by side, all 
regardless of the presence of others, and wholly absorbed 
In communion with God. Yet, strange as it may sound 
to Protestant ears, this is a sight that may be witnessed. 



32 CHURCHES. 

to a greater or less degree^ every day^ in every city and 
village throughout the vast extent of Catholic Chris- 
tendom. To one who has always lived a Catholic such 
sights cause no surprise — excite no extraordinary sensa- 
tions of delight — hut to the convert, to one born and 
brought up a Protestant, in a Protestant land, they 
awaken a thrill of pleasure impossible to describe. He 
cannot avoid drawing comparisons. He cannot but ob- 
serve, wherever he goes, the contrast between Catholic 
and Protestant churches, between Catholic and Protes- 
tant devotion. 

The pious Catholic, after. the toils of the day are end- 
ed, nay, in the midst of its excitements and cares, well 
knows that there is for him one retreat at least to which 
he can retire, — 

" And bid earth roll, nor heed her idle whirl," — 

a retreat consecrated to God, where, in the silence of the 
sanctuary and in its sombre shades, he can meditate and 
pray, undisturbed, save by the sighs of suppliants like 
himself. This pleasure is to Protestants unknown. 
Their churches are never opened for private devotion. 
But I reproach them not in this. They have no 
motive to draw them to the church. The Cath- 
olic has His Lord is there. His Body and Blood 
— His Soul and Divinity. He believes, and acts con- 
sistently with his faith. The Protestant believes not. 
To him Christ is no more present in the church than he 
is in the family circle. And he too must be consistent. 
Therefore I reproach them not in this. It is their 
misfortune to have inherited from their more guilty an- 
cestors a dry and unprofitable worship, consisting of a 
long prayer, a long sermon, and a long psalm. Let us 
not reproach, but pity them. We are more highly fa- 



MARSEILLES. 33 

vored, though we will not boast, but rather humiliate our- 
selves before God, and humbly thank him that, while he 
permits so many to grovel in the darkness and ashes of 
error, he has graciously called us to be members of his 
spotless church, which he has purchased with his blood, 
and made us partakers of its life-giving sacraments. 

I visited Marseilles, for the first time, ten years ago. 
Of all the European cities that I have since revisited, 
none seems so little changed as Marseilles — the same 
houses — the same customs and costumes — the same 
cries and shouts — almost the same faces. But not all 
the same faces. Several whom I then knew are now no 
more. The good Canon Guien, the friend of the youth, 
and the benefactor of the orphans, has gone to his repose. 
Madame Julia Simpson too I cannot forget. I lodged 
in her house for six weeks, and she was a mother to me ; 
nor to me alone, but to every American who stopped in 
her house — particularly to the young ecclesiastics who 
were on their way to the Propaganda. I inquired for 
her as soon as I arrived, and learned, to my regret and 
disappointment, that she was dead. May her soul rest 
in peace. 

I visited an institution for the reformation and em- 
ployment of vicious boys. It is called Le Penitentiaire 
pour les Jeunes Detenus. It was established some twelve 
years ago, in accordance with a plan recommended by 
Messrs. Beaumont and Tocqueville, who had visited the 
United States, commissioned by the French government 
to examine our penitentiary system, which they have 
pronounced to be the best in the world. 

The Abbe Tissieux was the foiuider and first superin- 
tendent. He had an ample fortune, and he threw it all 
into this institution. Having purchased his land, (no 
barren and stinted knoll, but a beautiful park of forty 



34 boys' penitentiary. 

acres, situated about a mile and a half from the port of 
Marseilles,) and having erected spacious buildings thereon, 
he visited all the prisons in the neighborhood, and peti- 
tioned the proper authorities to deliver up to his cus- 
tody the juvenile convicts confined there. They con- 
sented, and in a few months his house was filled with 
inmates rescued from misery and degradation, and placed 
in a happy home. These boys, instead of becoming the 
pests and dread of their country, have now become its 
ornaments and its consolation. Some of the boys I 
found at work on the garden and farm, others in school, 
and others in their several workshops, busily though 
silently plying at their tasks. There v/ere tailors, book- 
binders, plaster moulders, shoemakers, combmakers, 
weavers, &c. The tables Avere set for supper. Every 
thing was very clean, and the rooms well ventilated. No 
grease upon the tables, no dirt upon the floors. A 
wooden fork, a spoon, and a tin porringer were placed 
for each boy. Every boy has a dormitory or little 
chamber to himself, to which he retires at eight o'clock. 
These are five feet by four in size, and ventilated at 
the top, the upper part of each dormitory being made 
of wire netting for the space of four feet from the wall. 
The boys looked healthy and cheerful. Their conduct 
towards the ofiicers was respectful, but wholly free from 
embarrassment. When spoken to by the superintend- 
ent, who was a priest, they smiled and conversed with 
ease as with a companion, but invariably addressed him 
as. My Father, Mon Fere ; — yes, my father, or, no, my 
father. At suitable ages they are apprenticed to trades. 
In a word, the whole system is calculated to make them 
good Christians, apt scholars, and skilful artisans. 

The Hotel Dieu is, like the others of which I have 
spoken, a hospital for the poor sick, without distinction 



MARSEILLES. 35 

of creed or country. It usually lias from seven to eight 
hundred inmates^ distributed into large halls, some of 
which are two hundred feet long and fifteen high. On 
either side is a row of beds, about four feet apart, with 
a canopy over each bed, which gives them a remarkably 
clean and comfortable appearance. Silence, order, and 
neatness reigned in every department. 

While on this subject, I will improve the opportunity 
to offer a few general remarks on the continental hos- 
pitals, of which I have visited a great number. No 
newspaper scribblers or reforming zealots are here found 
to prate about the alarming increase of pauperism, and 
the VICE of 'poverty ! No municipal authorities or state 
legislators have yet enacted or proposed laws to crush or 
massacre all foreign paupers, or to make their condition 
so desperate and wretched that death itself in the open 
street would be preferable to life in an almshouse. No 
Vandal philanthropists have yet devised a plan to open 
palaces of pleasure for all Protestant youth, and then ap- 
prentice them to Catholic taskmasters, to be brought up 
mere nominal Catholics, or infidels. No " Friends and 
Fathers " are here found to set off divers portions of the 
hospitals into heavens and hells — the heavens for native 
born, the hells for foreigners. Here there is no " clas- 
sification," except of diseases and of degrees of conva- 
lescence, and of ages. The nurses are neither valetudi- 
narian paupers nor unfeeling hirelings. They are Sisters 
of Charity, whose services are of course gratuitous, and 
therefore the more zealously, humanely, and faithfully 
performed. You hear no scolding, no angry retorts — 
indeed, no loud talking. O, if the municipal authorities 
of the towns and cities of America had but the intelli- 
gence to appreciate the value of their services, and the 



36 OEPHAN ASYLUM. 

manliness and independence to demand them, what an 
alleviation of human suffering would be the conse- 
quence ! — what happiness and cheerfulness among the 
patients ! — what a saving of money ! 

The Hospice de Charite is also a poorhouse, but for 
the able-bodied. It numbers a thousand inmates — men, 
women, and children. The chapel is the first building 
that meets the eye on entering the gates. My conductor 
remarked, " The Head of this house is God ; let us 
first call on him." Accordingly we entered the chapel 
and knelt a while. I could not help thinking whether 
" Friends and Fathers," in the good city of Boston, 
ever say and act thus when they show the city institu- 
tions to strangers. We then entered the main building, 
and inquired for the rector, who is a priest, and also 
chaplain of the establishment. With the utmost urban- 
ity he accompanied us through all the departments of 
the house. The men were at work shoemaking, tailor- 
ing, carpentering, &c. The women were sewing, wash- 
ing, scrubbing, and cooking ; and the boys were eating 
their dinner. The food of all, young and old, is soup, 
bread, fruit, wine and water. Start not, gentle " Friends 
and Fathers," at this word wine. It does not hurt them, 
nor make them drunkards. Drunkenness is a crying 
vice in America, but is comparatively unknown upon the 
continent of Europe. 

The asylum for orphan and deserted children, called 
here the Children of Providence, is a noble institution. 
It contains one hundred and forty boys, from nine to fif- 
teen years of age. They are under the care of the Broth- 
ers of the Christian Schools. There are nine brothers, 
one chaplain, and a lay administrator who is appointed 
by the benefactors to manage the financial and other 



MAESEILLES. 37 

temporal matters. The brothers receive a small stipend, 
just sufficient for their maintenance. All the boys were 
out at their daily promenade, but soon returned, and we 
saw them at their play. They wear a uniform of dark 
cloth, with a yellow star on their left breast. Hence 
they are commonly called — Les Enfans de VEtoile — 
" children of the star." 

This institution is supported, 1. By an association of 
about four hundred gentlemen, who contribute each thirty- 
seven francs a year ; 2. By occasional sermons ; 3. By 
gratuities given to the boys for attending and singing in 
funeral processions, one franc to each boy, from sixty to 
one hundred boys usually attending ; 4. By one dollar a 
week for the board of those whose relatives or friends 
can afford it. It is estimated that each boy costs three 
hundred francs a year — sixty dollars. 

CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 

Having frequently observed members of this venerable 
order in the streets of Marseilles, I was curious to see 
their convent and their manner of living. They wear a 
coarse brown woollen cassock, with a cord about the 
waist, a hat of the same color as the robe, with a very 
wide brim, hke that of a Shaker, and sandals on their 
feet. They never wear socks. The good friars cheer- 
fully conducted me to every part of the convent. In the 
chapel a few friars were at their devotions. The stillness 
of night prevailed ; no, not of night, for through the 
darkened windows and over the vaulted ceiling there 
did penetrate the songs of the birds of the garden — the 
single evidence within of day without. I then visited 
the dormitories, the refectory, the shoe shop, carpen- 
4 



38 CAPUCHINS. 

ters' shop, &c. ; for, to my surprise, I found these friars 
a thrifty and industrious people. They make their own 
wearing apparel, do all repairs or alterations ahout the 
premises, cultivate a very large garden, scrub, wash, 
cook. Sec, Sec. 

Some popular tourists, either through stupidity or 
malice, in speaking of these friars, would probably tell 
you that they are a lazy set of worthless vagabonds, who 
fleece the people under pretence of poverty, and, in re- 
turn, are regarded by the people with contempt and 
loathing. I candidly confess, though it be to my shame, 
that I had read so much of this Protestant twaddle, and 
was so impregnated with the virus of such unmanly 
scribblers, that I really looked for something of the 
kind. But I found it not. I found them, as I said 
before, courteous, intelligent, thrifty, and industrious. I 
have heard them spoken of by the inhabitants, but never 
otherwise than with affection and respect. Notwith- 
standing they live by begging, they are always welcome 
to their houses. My good landlady always anticipated 
the day of their visit with great pleasure, and took good 
care to have something ready for them to carry to their 
convent. 

But, O, these friars, what a fine theme they make for 
Exeter Hall and Tabernacle speechmakers ! and if they 
can capture a wretched apostate, what a fine show they 
make of him, tricked out in his friar's robe, and cord, 
and crucifix ! Yes, there are those, who, amid the cares 
and occupations of busy life, find time to quarrel with 
and abuse the poor Capuchins. And, would you believe 
it ? they even assume the character of moralists. The 
seclusion from the world practised by the friars, say they, 
is a sin. They are bound to go into the world and toil like 
other men. Stay, — ■ a word for you, pretended moral- 



MARSEILLES. 39 

ists. You talk without knowledge. You have not yet 
acquired, with all your learning, the remotest notion of 
the nature of sin, or even of the meaning of the word. 
Sin cannot exist without malice. If there be malice in 
seclusion from the world, in fasting, in praying, and in 
the practice of virtue, then are these friars very wicked 
men. Sin is a transgression of the law of God. But it 
was God himself who commanded the apostles to leave 
their several occupations and to follow him — and the 
rich, to sell all they had and give to the poor, and aspire 
only after heavenly treasures. How eager you are to 
praise and flatter the Shaker, with his broad-leafed hat, 
and quaint coat, and celibacy, and dances, while you 
abuse and revile the Christian Capuchin with his habit, 
his crucifix, his chastity, and his prayers. How compla- 
cently you will regard the pomp and luxury of the rich 
merchants, whose clothing is purple and fine linen, and 
who fare sumptuously every day, to whom the poor apply 
in vain for succor, and yet sneer and snarl at the Capu- 
chin who abandons all for God, and who, with a degree 
of charity impossible for you to appreciate, submits to 
the trials and mortifications of a street beggar, that after 
having eaten a crust himself he may have something 
left to give to the poor and hungry ! How readily you 
tolerate, nay, more, encourage, by your example, the ex- 
actions of usurers, the appliances in daily use for getting 
gain, and class the wretched votaries thereof among 
the industrious and useful — and yet accuse of idleness 
and vagrancy the Capuchin who lives in poverty ; who 
asks from the rich to give to the poor ; who toils in his 
garden to supply his scanty table ; who makes his own 
clothes and sandals ; and devotes the residue of his time 
to meditation and prayer ! . 



40 CAPUCHINS. 

Know, good friends, that there are other ways of 
behig active, industrious, and useful, besides laboring 
for gold, or even than preaching for gold. Do ye count 
as idle the hours passed in prayer and praise ? Do ye 
regard as useless the prayers that every hour ascend to 
the mercy seat of God from holy cloisters ? Prayers, 
perhaps, for you who so much need them — prayers for 
the conversion of sinners and for the spread of the glo- 
rious gospel ! Tell me, were Moses, and Aaron, and Hur 
to be accounted as idlers and vagabonds when they re- 
mained on the mountain in prayer, while Joshua and his 
legions were engaged in fierce and bloody conflict with 
the Amalechites 1 Nay, nay, believe me, the Almighty 
calls different persons to different states of life. As 
some are called to be kings and magistrates, and some to 
be tradesmen and mechanics, some to be honored and 
some to be despised, so some are called publicly to herald 
forth the gospel, and some to be nuns and friars. There 
are who, either from constitution or from circumstances, 
are unsuited to an active life among men, but whose 
pleasure and usefulness consist only in a life of contem- 
plation. Shall such as these be lost to themselves and 
to God by being forced into scenes and occupations that 
disgust and weary, or shall they be allowed the indul- 
gence of a life of seclusion ? If, then, you thirst for 
war, wage it, I pray you, against the enemies of Christ, 
not his friends. Wage it against the countless multi- 
tudes, who, regardless of the God of heaven, serve the 
god Mammon — the god of this world. Wage it 
with the impious and profligate, with the enemies and 
oppressors of mankind. But seek not a conflict with the 
poor, inoffensive, unresisting, uncomplaining friar, who 
will never murmur nor retaliate, whatever indignities 



EXCURSION. 41 

you may heap upon him. It is too mean and cowardly 
for a MAN. 

The country about Marseilles is verdant and fruitful. 
It is truly " a land of wine, of oil olive, and honey." 
Grapes, oranges, and figs abound. The mountains in- 
deed are barren, for they are mostly of solid rock ; but 
they protect the valleys from the winter blasts, and the 
valleys in return surround their august and hardy pro- 
tectors with gardens of perennial beauty. Luxuriant, 
however, and fertile as the land is, it is seldom visited 
with rains, and healthful and invigorating as is the air, 
it is seldom purified by that terrific benefactor, the 
lightning. From the rising of the sun to his setting, a 
serene and cloudless sky overhangs the land during the 
greater portion of the year. Yet, so provident is the 
Father of all, the springs are abundant, and gush forth 
in sparkling fountains on every side. The dews also 
are heavy, and the fields are abundantly irrigated. 

The country people live in villages or towns for the 
most part walled. You seldom see a house standing 
alone. The farmer and his " boys " rise betimes, take 
some provisions for a lunch, and set off for a day in the 
fields ; while the good wife, with her daughters, arranges 
the house, or, with baskets of soiled linen on their heads, 
and petticoats of the " bloomer " pattern, hie to a neigh- 
boring brook to do their " washing ; " and at the close 
of the day prepare a repast for the returning farmers. 

As an illustration of the manners of the country peo- 
ple, I will give a brief account of an excursion I made. 
A M. Germain, a Frenchman, who speaks English per- 
fectly well, invited an American ship captain and myself 
to accompany him into the country to visit an old woman 
who had nursed him in his infancy, and whom he had 



42 MAESEILLES. 

not seen for some two or three years. We -went by dil- 
igence to Aix, where we dined. After dinner we started 
on foot for Gardanne, the place of our destination, it 
is about five miles from Aix. Instead of going by the 
public road, we went by a foot path over the mountains. 
This path was intended for mules and asses, though that 
was not our reason for choosing it ; yet if it had been, 
some will perhaps think we were not far astray. The 
only living objects we met were now and then an ass 
with huge panniers, mounted by a woman in the attire 
of the country, which is a black hat, resembling beaver, 
with a flaring brim about nine inches wide, a long light- 
colored waist, and a short dark skirt, secured by shoulder 
straps crossing behind. As we approached the summit 
of the mountain the declivity on one side of the path 
was fearfully precipitous. For several hundred feet it is 
nearly perpendicular ; and I hurried on, not having the 
nerve, like my companions, to stop and look over the 
edge of the path. On the opposite side of the deep ra- 
vine was another mountain of rock, similar to the one we 
were on, as though a river of immense depth, rolling 
between them, had swept their sides of earth and ver- 
dure, and left the naked rocks as the only evidence of 
its existence. 

At six o'clock we reached Gardanne. M. Germain 
was immediately recognized and greeted by nearly every 
one we met, by some in French, but by far the larger 
portion in Provencal, or the common language of th.e 
lower orders, which he spoke as well as he did the 
French ; and we had many invitations to partake their 
hospitality during our sojourn, all which we declined, as 
M. Germain had resolved that we should lodge nowhere 
but with the old woman, his nui'se. To her cottage. 



VILLAGE LIFE. 43 

accordingly, we repaired. The news of our arrival had 
preceded us, for we found the old creature at the street 
door, her mouth wide open, and her eyes straining their 
utmost in search of her beloved boy. She seized him 
by the shoulders, gazed at him with pride, laughed, 
kissed him, and without uttering a word drew him up 
the steep steps into the house. We followed. But the 
old woman seemed hardly sensible of our presence till 
we began to converse with her boy. No words can de- 
scribe her amazement. She had never before heard a 
word of English. She did not seem to know whether 
we were really talking together, or merely sputtering by 
way of pleasantry. However, the rites of hospitality 
were not forgotten. We must be hungry, and we must 
eat. Supper was soon ready, and plenty of it. On the 
table were ham, beefsteak, eggs, preserved walnuts, fruit 
of various kinds, bread, milk, and excellent wine, made 
in the village. After supper we walked out. The 
streets were very narrow and dirty, and the houses very 
lofty. None of them were handsome. We visited the 
parish church and adored the Blessed Sacrament, thank- 
ing the Giver of all for the favors we enjoyed. The 
church was nearly filled with the peasants, their wives, 
and children, all upon their knees. When we returned 
to the house we were shown about the premises, that is, 
about the house, for there was no such thing as a yard 
of any kind. The public streets are tne only yards they 
have. The house contained four apartments, one above 
the other. There was the sitting room, which was also 
kitchen, dining room, &c. Above this was the old lady's 
chamber, where her husband, sick and infirm with age, 
lay bedridden. Above this again was an attic, almost 
dark, which was used as a hay loft, and was partly filled 



44 QUEER TRAVELLING EQUIPAGE. 

with new hay. Below — that is, in the cellar — was a 
stable foi- a cow and a donkey, which latter animal was, 
of all draught quadrupeds I have ever seen, the wretch^ 
edest looking, the most raw-boned and diminutive. He 
was about as big as a calf, and as lean as a salted fish. 

Finally we were shown to our apartment. Which of 
the four, think you ? Why, to the sweetest and the 
best of them all — to the hay loft. We found snow- 
white linen sheets spread upon the new hay, and without 
undressing, we threw our weary limbs upon them and 
slept soundly. 

At half past four next morning we were up and walk- 
ing in the fields, and listening to the songs of the night- 
ingales. We followed the course of a river, and walked 
upon its banks. It was deeply shaded on either side by 
trees of thickest foliage. The plain extended for miles, 
literally covered with wheat and grapes, olives and al- 
monds. 

But we cannot live in Gardanne forever. So after 
mass and breakfast we must return to Marseilles. But 
how ? There is no coach, no railroad, nor steamboat. 
To walk is impossible, for it is a burning hot day. Ah, 
ha ! the old woman has it all arranged, and relieved us 
of all anxiety. We must go in her market wagon, 
which she assures us will be just the thing ; and Jean 
Baptiste, her grandson, shall drive us. Jean, at the pro- 
posal, showed all his teeth, and a fine mouthful of them 
he had. Presently it was announced that the carriage 
was ready ; so were we. After much leave-taking, we 
hastened to the street to take our seats in the vehicle. 
But, Noah's ark ! what have we here ? As I live, 'tis 
the very little raw-boned, frame jackass, down cellar. 
He wears a harness that nearly buries him, though the 



MARSEILLES. 45 

protrusion of a few bones above, and his four sticks be- 
low, and two long ears forward, reveal his identity sure 
enough. And the wagon — consternation ! it was no 
larger than a Boston handcart, only the floor of it pro- 
truded two or three feet behind, and the body of it had 
a covering of white cotton, distended by hoops. The 
boy sat on one of the shafts, and we entered from be- 
hind, sitting the best way we could on the floor of the 
cart. The old lady looked as proud and happy as if it 
had been a coach and four. Crack went the whip, round 
went the wheels, and to our astonishment the poor beast 
trotted ofl" without any apparent effort, and soon shook 
us down into our places, from which it was impossible to 
move. The cart, and beast, and grinning boy thus bore 
us safely to Marseilles, just before reaching which we 
descended, and finished the journey on foot. 



GROTTOS OR CAVES. 

There are two grottos very famous, each about fi.ve 
miles from Marseilles, though in nearly opposite direc- 
tions. The first that I visited is called the Cave of 
Loubiere. I went with a party of three or four. We 
were conveyed to the nearest village in a hack. Here 
■we took a guide, supplied ourselves with torches, and 
provisions for a lunch, and started on foot for the cave, 
which was about a mile distant. We walked through a 
barren, rocky, and precipitous pass, under the oppressive 
rays of a scorching sun ; and having ascended for some 
distance a mountain almost destitute of verdure, we 
reached the mouth of the cave. In it sat a small boy 
tending a herd of goats, who were picking up a meagre 
sustenance among the crags and stubble. We entered. 



46 EEMARKABLE GROTTOS. 

and in a few minutes should have been enveloped in 
blackest darkness, but for our torches, of which we each 
had one. We soon perceived that we were in a cavern 
of immeasurable extent. It is, however, more properly 
speaking, a countless succession of caverns, that, I am 
told, have never been explored. We were informed in the 
village, for our encouragement, that not long since one 
poor fellow, a traveller, had the temerity to enter without a 
guide, and eight days afterwards was found dead in one of 
these caverns. He had lost his way, and had died probably 
of starvation. We remained several hours working our 
way from cavern to cavern, sometimes crawling, snake- 
like, upon our bellies, through tunnels and apertures 
that it seemed impossible for man to enter, and which 
some of our party absolutely refused to attempt ; at 
others striding across chasms of unknown depth ; then 
carefully searching for footing on the edges of slimy 
rocks. It was well we were dressed for the excursion, 
for the water was continually dripping from the roof, 
forming itself into the most fantastic figures, as though 
mirthfully disposed to caricature the works of nature 
and of art. An imaginative observer could see columns 
and arches, altars and churches, crystals and gems, ele- 
phants, horses, wolves, and fiery flying dragons. Some of 
the caverns were large halls with vaulted roofs, or length- 
ened corridors, while others were cells so narrow, that 
there was scarcely room to move, or space to stand 
erect. Countless crvstals, shaped like icicles, depended 
from the roofs of ali, or shot up from the pavements ; 
and had we hammers and the means of conveyance, we 
certainly should have broken off some of the finest. As 
it was, we contented ourselves with such as we could 
carry in our hands and pockets. They varied in size 
from the bigness of a quill to that of a hogshead. We 



MAESEILLES. , 47 

traversed these grottos till fatigued and sated, and find- 
ing no end below, or above, or on either side, we re- 
turned. We then dined, and walked back to Mar- 
seilles. 

The other grotto is quite celebrated, and is called 
" Grotto Eoland." It is said to have been in the thir- 
teenth century the retreat of a famous brigand, named 
Roland, and his banditti. We obtained an experienced 
guide and a hack, and in an hour were at the foot of the 
mountain, in the bowels of which this grotto exists. 
The whole mountain appears to be of rock, and its 
crags and caverns, as well as of Loubiere, were doubt- 
less the result of some dreadful disturbance of the ele- 
ments. We toiled up the steep ascent till we reached 
the mouth of the cavern. Here we stripped off coats 
and hats, tied handkerchiefs round onr heads, lighted 
our torches, and proceeded to the interior of the cave. 
It is much more easily traversed than that of Loubiere, 
it being more vaulted, vast, and continuous ; though, 
like that, completely lined with incrustations, and pre- 
senting constantly pillars and figures of the most fantas- 
tic forms. There are, too, some pitfalls, or gaping 
mouths, in which there is danger, if one takes not heed, 
of falling, and not rising again. Continually descend- 
ing, we at length reached a landing, whence the decliv- 
ity was very steep and long. Here our guide bade us 
stop and extinguish our torches, which he took, and 
then descended, and when he had reached the bottom, 
began relighting and placing them in certain crevices 
and niches in the incrustations and columns, when, as 
if by magic, was suddenly illuminated one of the most 
splendid grottos of the workmanship of nature. After 
we had sufficiently admired, we descended and resumed 



48 A CAVE. 

our torches, and then visited other portions of this al- 
most inexplorable cavern, and drank from an icy pool 
the most delicious water I ever tasted. Nine hours, our 
guide informed us, would hardly suffice to see the 
whole i and as two of our companions had already given 
oiit from fatigue, we determined to return, leaving 
the grotto partially illumined for the astonishment of 
any that should chance to visit it within an hour-. 

Our descent from the mountain was by far more rapid 
and perilous than our ascent had been. We chose a 
nearer path, and came down literally on rolling stones. 
Scarcely could we place a foot but the stones would roll, 
and we must follow, or risk being rolled on by those 
that our companions behind were displacing. We went 
long distances asunder to avoid this danger. The 
prospect from this mountain, particularly from that side 
which faces the Gulf of Lyons, is of great beauty. 

With regard to the morals of the people in the cities 
of France, I am fully convinced that they are vastly 
better than in the cities of the United States. Drunk- 
enness and fighting are almost unknown, even on holidays. 
Among causes of poverty, disease, and crime intemper- 
ance has no place. The Sunday has not the appearance 
of being so religiously observed as with us, yet it is, in 
point of fact, far more scrupulously observed. The pro- 
portion of the people who attend church is larger by at 
least a hundred per cent. The churches are thronged 
with worshippers from early daylight till after sundown. 
The devotion of the worshippers is very edifyingv The 
Mass and other services are celebrated with great solem- 
nity and dignity on the part of the clergy and the assist- 
ants. Both men and boys serve at Mass, and not unfre- 
q.uently young gentlemen and elderly persons in fine 
apparel solicit the privilege. It is true, our Puritan 



ST. Peter's church. 4 

notions of Sunday do not prevail. It is regarded not aa 
a day of sadness and seclusion, but as one of joy and 
recreation. 



CHAPTER VI, 

ROME. 



On the 22d day of March, 1854, we entered Rome. 
At seven minutes before three o'clock, P. M., about ten 
miles distant, we enjoyed the first view of the cupola of 
St. Peter's. 

" The dome — the vast and wondrous dome, 
To which Diana's marvel was a cell — 
Christ's mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb ! " 

We descended from the carriage without speaking 
a word, climbed an eminence by the road side, and 
knelt among the trees, to return thanks to God for 
all his mercies, and adore in presence of the Eternal 
City. Our eyes were fixed upon that peerless dome, 
but our thoughts — who can tell them? None but 
the great God above. Neither of us uttered a word 
at the time, or ever even alluded to the subject after- 
wards. When we reentered the diligence our hearts 
beat responsive to the animation and hurry of the pos- 
tilions, who leaped joyfully into their saddles, rapidly 
cracked their whips over the heads of the fresh fiery 
steeds, rattled us over the ground right cheerily, and at 
half past four we passed through the gates of Rome, and 
took apartments at the Hotel della Minerva. 

On the following day we took a drive about the city, 
5 



50 ROME. 

and ascended to the summit of the Pincian Hill. It was 
a fine, clear day, and we left our carriage and walked 
about, gazing with unspeakable delight upon the splen- 
did panorama that surrounded us. There were St. Peter's 
Church and the Coliseum, the Pantheon and the Piazza 
Colonna, innumerable domes and towers, the seven hills 
and the Alban mountains, the palaces of the Csesars, and 
those of the Vatican and Quirinal, all so suggestive of 
what Rome had been, and of what Rome now is. 

The history of Rome is the history of the human 
race — the history of the world. To advance the gran- 
deur of Rome, and to crown her queen of empires, 
tended all the powers and all the great events of an- 
tiquity. From Rome have sprung forth all the peoples 
of modern civilization. She was the daughter of the 
nations which have passed away ; she is the mother of 
those that now exist. 

The ancient Romans were the boldest men the world 
had ever seen. They would not be vanquished. If 
defeated and routed, they would still rally and fight till 
no one was left to wield a weapon. Nations the most 
warlike trembled at their approach. Generals the most 
experienced avowed themselves outgeneralled and beaten. 
Yet they yielded to no people in their admiration of 
works of art, in ingenuity of invention, and in skill of 
execution. The temples, the baths, the public squares, 
the aqueducts, the streets, even . the common sewers, 
displayed a taste and magnificence which would never 
be believed were it not for the ruins that still exist to 
prove it. Within the walls which enclosed the seven 
hills were 46,000 groups of buildings, separated by 
streets; 2117 palaces; 480 public squares; 470 re- i 
ligious temples ; 856 baths ; 1352 lakes or reservoirs ; 
32 sacred groves ; 2 vast amphitheatres ; 2 circusesj 



AKCIENT ROMANS. . .51 

one of which woiild contain two hundred thousand spec- 
tators ; 23 colossal equestrian statues of marble, 80 of 
bronze gilt, and 84 of ivory ; 36 triumphal arches ; 48 
obelisks; 11 forums j 14 aqueducts, which conveyed into 
the city the waters, or rather rivers, which poured down 
from the mountains ; and 24 streets, paved with large 
flags, wliich issued through as many massive gates, and 
which performed the functions of arteries, conveying 
from the throbbing heart of the empire the circulating 
fluid of energy, enterprise, and vitality to every member 
of the gigantic body, that is, to every portion of the 
then known world. 

The ancient Romans were not only warriors, engineers, 
and architects, — they were also farmers^ horticulturists, 
and manufacturers. They introduced agriculture into 
every region that they conquered. They propagated the 
apple, the cherry, and many other fruit trees, even as 
far as Britain. They introduced the olive into France 
and Spain.* The garments even of the most aristocratic 
were made from the wool of their own flocks. While 
the men were fighting the battles of their country, their 
wives and daughters at home were assiduously plying 
the distaff", and during the hours of recreation nursing 
the flowers in the windows, and training the roses and 
honeysuckles in the bowers, to fill the air with their 
fragrance and cheer the hardy warriors on their return. 

Such was the grandeur of ancient Rome. Nor was 
she thus elevated and prospered but to accomplish the 
designs of infinite wisdom and goodness in behalf of 
man — to disseminate the blessings of civilization, 
science, and religion throughout the Avorld — to level 
and prepare the way for the advent of the Messias. 

* Mailer's Univers. Hist. 



52 EOME. 

If, kind reader, you have followed us, and sympa- 
tliized with us in these reflections from the Pincian 
Hill upon the power and grandeur of ancient Rome, 
you are perhaps now waiting to know our reflections 
upon the " decline and fall of Rome." You are expect- 
ing a description of the hearse that bears off" her re- 
mains in the gloomy cortege of the funeral of nations. 
You are prepared to shed tears of sincere and deep 
regret. But you wait in vain. In vain you listen. 
Reserve your compassion and your tears for the fall and 
utter ruin and extinction of other nations — the enemies 
of Rome. For Rome hath never fallen. By the conver- 
sion of the nations to Christianity she 'became, by a new 
and more glorious title, the metropolis of the world. 
She went forth conquering and to conquer. She bore 
aloft the torch of truth and knowledge, diflusing the 
light of religion and science from the equator to the 
polar circles. 

No ; Rome hath never fallen — and never will. The 
Egypt of the Pharaohs exists only in mummies. Phoeni- 
cia is a deserted and moaning beach. Carthage is anni- 
hilated. Greece lives only in song. But Rome is full 
of life, and still acts, decrees, and commands with all 
the energy and vivacity of her youth. When she speaks 
from the Vatican, all the nations hold their breath and 
listen to her voice. She never says too much. She 
never says too little. When she applauds, the meed is 
received with gratitude and pride. When she lifts her 
arm to smite, the haughtiest monarchs quail. The fact 
cannot be disguised that she wields an influence even 
over the empires that affect to hold her in derision, 
more potent than that of all the powers of Christendom. 
At this day, while insulted and defied by legions of 



DECLmE AND FALL. 53 

open and secret enemies, her Chief Pastor only a few 
years since forced to abandon his dominions, she is, in 
fact, more powerful and glorious than when a single de- 
cree of her Senate could call into the field hundreds of 
thousands of iron men, who never would nor could be 
conquered. Rome can never die. The gates of hell 
can never prevail. Thousands of years ago, her poets and 
her oracles celebrated her immortality in song. They 
called her an everlasting empire, imperium sine fine ; an 
eternal city, urbs ceterna ; the divine Rome, Roma Dea. 
Instinct, or say rather inspiration, taught her even in the 
days of her childhood that she would survive the fall of 
empires, and still live and act when the wild winds should 
howl among their ruins. Who, then, will talk of the 
decline and fall of Rome ? 

The fall of Rome ! From whence has she fallen, 
and to what ? Is it from paganism to Christianity ? Is 
it from the capital of Tarquin the Proud to the glorious 
Church of St. Peter '^ — from the Capitoline Hill to the 
Vatican ? Is it from the Trajan Forum to the Christian 
pulpit ? — from the altar of idols to the altar of God ? 
Is it from the schools of the philosophers to the semina- 
ries and colleges of Christian erudition ? 

Pagan Rome contained three hundred idolatrous tem- 
ples ; it now contains three hundred and seventy Chris- 
tian churches. Is this a fall ? Answer me as Christians. 
There was an amphitheatre where Christians were torn 
in pieces within sight of a hundred thousand spectators 
— the ruins of that amphitheatre are now daily visited 
by hundreds of Christians, of every rank and profession, 
who come to kiss the crucifix that has been planted on 
the very earth which drank up the blood of the martyrs. 
Call you this a fall ? 
5* 



54 ROME. 

The Temple of Jupiter, indeed, no longer frowns 
over the city ; but on the very spot where it stood we 
behold the beautiful and mysterious church of Ara Coeli, 
or the Altar of Heaven. We look in vain for the famous 
baths of Diocletian ; but on the very ground they occu- 
pied we gaze with admiration upon the magnificent 
church and convent of St. Mary of the Angels. No 
longer in lascivious song do needy poets sing the amours 
of the gods, nor in heroic measures celebrate the deeds 
of men of war ; but every stone and brick of modern 
Rome proclaims the triumphs of her missionaries and 
her martyrs. The schools of the philosophers indeed 
are closed, but in their place are colleges where men of 
every tongue, and clime, and color may drink at the foun- 
tain head of wisdom, and schools for youth where fifteen 
thousand children are daily and gratuitously taught. 
Her triumphal arches and other monuments of ancient 
art have long since fallen into dust ; yet she still pro- 
duces masterpieces in sculpture, painting, and architec- 
ture, which ancient Eome in her palmiest days did never 
equal, and which render modern Korne the greatest city 
of the world, not merely in this our day, but in any day, 
in any age. Call you this a fall ? 

No ; Rome hath never fallen. From the Great Ar- 
biter of the destinies of nations she received a twofold 
mission. She was first to conquer and subjugate the 
peoples, to prepare them for the sweet yoke of the Mes- 
siah, and then to teach them and conduct them to 
heaven. The one she achieved before the advent of 
Christ, the other she is still achieving. The one was a 
mission of force, the other of love. This twofold mis- 
sion, if we may indulge in mysticism, is expressed in 
her very name. Roma is the Greek for power, strength. 



CATHOLIC SOLDIEES. 55 

Spell it backwards, it is amor, love. Now pursue the 
great events of history downwards to the Christian era, 
and we shall find all depending on, or tending to, mate- 
rial force and martial glory. On the other hand, trace 
back the great events of modern history, and we find all 
proceeding from the principle of divine love. All the 
wars of old, the rise and fall of empires, the conquests 
of Cyrus and Alexander, the battles of Marathon and 
ThermopylaB, tended to the conception and birth of Rome 
— to construct a cradle for her infancy and a field for 
her exploits. The great events of more recent times, 
the fortitude of confessors, the sufferings of martyrs, the 
triumphs of the cross, the conversion of the nations, 
and the civilization of the world, all are stamped with 
the impress of that boundless love which impelled the 
Son of God to lay aside his glory and array himself in 
the habiliments of humanity. Rome was always queen 
and. mistress of the world — before Christ, because she 
governed the bodies of men ,• since, in a sublimer and 
truer sense, because she reigns over their souls. Call 
you this a fall ? 

Rome still commissions and sends forth her battalions 
of soldiers — soldiers who never quail nor fly — soldiers 
who, though defeated, will still rally and fight to the 
death. But her campaigns are no longer against Cartha- 
ginians, nor Greeks, nor Parthians, nor Gauls, nor Britons, 
but against principalities and powers unseen — against 
crime and oppression — against rebellion and heresy. In 
the name of God she spreads her banners. They are 
often " rolled in blood," — not the blood of her enemies, 
for that she never sheds, — but in her own blood and 
that of her children. Her priests, her missionaries, and 
her religious orders are so many invincible legions. 



56 EOME. 

their shields all locked together, ready, at a single word 
from the successor of the Fisherman, to go forth to any 
part of the world to fight the battles of the King of 
kings and Lord of lords. Csesar, resplendent with 
imperial purple, did but rule an empire ; the Fisherman 
of the Vatican, though an exile and a wanderer, rules 
the world. The fall of Rome ! 

]S[o — Rome hath never fallen — and never will. 
Thousands of strangers yearly throng her streets. Some 
of them are foolish, some ax-e wise. The foolish prate 
and write about the ignorance and superstition of the 
Romans, and about the pride and tyranny of their rulers, 
and would fain convey the impression that Rome is 
heaving her death throes. The wise, on the contrary, 
stand amazed and delighted with all that the eye sees, 
that the ear hears, and that their intelligence can grasp. 
In her they behold the panting deer, all spotless and 
unstained, hunted by reckless and wicked sportsmen 
for eighteen centuries, with a malice and fury truly in- 
fernal — often driven from the sacred covert of the seven 
hills, seeking refuge now in the catacombs, now in the 
desert — taken captive, and bound and carried to strange 
lands — yet still at bay, holding a charmed life, beauti- 
ful, pure, and strong as when long ago she heard the 
fierce cry of her pursuers. Crucify him, crucify him. 

O divine Rome ! as the city of cities, the city of the 
world, the mistress of the arts, the school of chivalry, 
and the queen of empires, I have ever honored thee, 
even from my boyish days. But now that my eyes have 
seen thee, and my feet have pressed thy sacred soil, I 
revere and love thee as the nursery of every virtue, the 
refuge of the aifiicted, the home of the indigent, the 
sanctuary of Christianity, and the bulwark of the faith. 



CHUECHES. 57 

Thou art all radiant with glory. Thou art a treasury of 
gems and precious metals. Thou art a sparkling foun- 
tain of waters, of which whosoever drinks shall never 
thirst again. Thou art a glorious sun, from which 
radiate life and light to the uttermost parts of the earth. 
Thus I have endeavored to show that the city and em- 
pire of Rome was raised up by the Almighty for a great 
and sublime purpose — to act an important part in pro- 
moting the true happiness of the human race. Man has 
a destiny to fulfil ; so have empires and kingdoms. So 
especially has Rome, which was born of the dying em- 
bers of the nations of old, and is the palpitating heart 
of those that now exist. That destiny she has accom- 
plished, and is still proceeding with her work. " The 
milk-white hind is fated not to die." She will suffer to 
the last, but die she cannot. She will finally triumph 
— and, clothed with glory and all radiant with light, 
will behold her enemies at her feet, suppliants for 
mercy and pardon. What a consolation for us that her 
destiny is ours ! Be it our glory and proudest boast that 
we are children of the Church of Rome — and our 
dying consolation that we have loved, honored, and 
obeyed her. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE CHURCHES OF ROME. 

As well might I undertake to describe the beauties of 
the diamonds of Golconda, or the pearls of the Indian 
seas, or the flowers of the tropics, or the constellations 
of the heavens, as to attempt a description of the 



OS ROME. 

churches of Rome. Nearly four hundred of them, all 
rich and beaxitiful, of surpassing worth, confounding 
antiquity and challenging posterity, I find myself lost 
in a sea of gems — walking in a garden of delights. 
Every church and chapel is a marvel of beauty. Yet 
no two are alike. You visit church after church for 
weeks and months, and you are never wearied ,• nay, you 
are never even satisfied. You still wish to see another, 
and you will enter every new one that you discover, and 
in each one you will find something still to contemplate 
and adniire. It is like reading a long but extremely 
interesting book. There are a' great many chapters, but 
each chapter has its particular point, and its own interest, 
and its share in the interest of the whole book. You 
read chapter after chapter, and never feel that the chap- 
ters are too many. On the contrary, you wish there 
were more. So it is with a Catholic in visiting the 
churches of Rome. 

I shall not attempt a description of any of the Roman 
churches, because if I did I should certainly make a 
failure. In order to do it a man should be an architect, 
a painter, a sculptor, a scholar, and a divine. I shall 
content myself, if not my readers, by giving my own 
impressions of some of the principal churches that I 
most frequently visited. 

The question. Where shall I begin ? is easily settled. 
I must begin, of course, with St. Peter's. We made 
our first pilgrimage to it on foot. Its matchless gran- 
deur burst upon our view as we emerged from the street 
into the vast and beautiful piazza in front, which is eight 
hundred feet in length. In the centre is an obelisk, a 
solid mass of red granite, eighty-three feet in height, 
resting on a pedestal fifty feet high. On each side of the 



ST. PETER-^:' B^ 

obelisk Is a foiintaiu. These fountains are perfectly sim- 
ple and beautiful — nothing remarkably striking, but in 
harmony with their position. The jet of water rises 
sixty feet above the pavement. The basin which receives 
it is fifty feet in circumference. The never-ceasing gush 
and flow ,of the waters is a fit emblem of human life : 
its throbbing pulse — its uncertainty — its rapid transit 
— its joys — its tears; while the granite obelisk — 
like a finger pointing silently to heaven — is an emblem 
of that faith founded on a rock, which tells of an abiding 
world above, of consolation and of rest, of a building 
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. On either 
hand, again, are vast semicircular colonnades, supported 
by four rows of cohimns, and united to the church at 
their extremities. The height of these colonnades is 
sixty-four feet. On the entablature are one hundred and 
ninety-two statues, each eleven and a half feet high. 

We now approach the church and stand transfixed 
with astonishment at the very vestibule, or porch. This 
is four hundred and thirty-nine feet long, thirty-seven 
wide, and sixty-two feet high. At the extremity on the 
right* is an equestrian statue of Constantino, and on the 
left another of Charlemagne, 

We are now about to press open the heavy leather 
curtain at the portal of St. Peter's itself. But we pause 
in awe and veneration. Can it be ? Are we in Rome ? 
at St. Peter's ? on the threshold of the apostles — ad 
limina apostolorum 1 What men have crossed this 
threshold before us ? How many saints and martyrs ! 
How many kings and potentates ! How many bishops 
and priests ! Hoav many poor and despised of the 
world ! They entered and adored, and prostrate on the 
pavement they confessed that God alone was great and 



60 Ni, EOME. 

good. They have passed away, and have beheld greater 
wonders ; and now it is our turn. So we press open the 
curtain and enter ; and then, O God ! what a sight pre- 
sents itself to our view ! Tliis is indeed none other than 
the house of God, and this the gate of heaven. We 
cannot criticise, we cannot look at details ; we see no one 
thing beautiful or vast, yet we are lost in admiration. 

Thou movest — but increasing with the advance, 
Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise, 
Deceived by its gigantic elegance ; 
Vastness which grows — but grows to harmonize ; 
AH musical in its immensities : , 
Rich marbles — richer paintings — shrines where flame 
The lamps of gold — and haughty dome which vies 
In air with earth's chief structures, though their frame 
Sits on the firmest ground — and this the clouds must claim. 

Childe Harold. 

We behold a temple so vast that the loftiest steeple in 
Boston would not reach to its roof, and the largest church 
in Boston would scarcely impede the view more than 
one of its own massive columns. On whichsoever side 
we turn we behold colossal statues, the richest gildings, 
exquisite paintings, matchless mosaics, precious marbles, 
and wonderful monuments. Along the vast nave there 
is nothing to impede the view — neither pews, nor 
benches, nor pulpit. Far off, near its extremity, so far 
that human vision can scarcely discern what they are, 
are seen shining the hundred lamps which always burn 
around the " confession " or tomb of the apostles. 
Above them is the high altar, and above that again is 
seen its rich baldichino, or canopy, ninety feet high, 
supported by four twisted columns of Corinthian bronze. 
Looking still higher we behold the interior of that sub- 
lime and mysterious dome — the triumph of architec- 



CANONS AT THEIR OFFICE. 61 

tural skill-— a huge temple of stone, four hundred and 
seventeen feet in circumference, as large as the Pan- 
theon, elevated to the top of St. Peter's, and planted 
upon four columns, each of these columns being two 
hundred and six feet in circumference and one hundred 
and sixty-six feet high. All around its base, in letters of 
gold, we could distinctly read, though at such a vast 
height the following inscription : Tii es Petrus, et super 
hanc petram (Rclijicaho ecclesiam meam, et porta inferi 
non prevalebunt adversus earn — " Thou art Peter, 

AND UPON THIS ROCK WILL I BUILD MY CHURCH, AND 
THE GATES OF HELL SHALL NOT PREVAIL AGAINST IT." 

Yes, glorious church ! Thou art at once a monument 
and an emblem of the faith of him over whom thou hast 
been erected. Like the Catholic faith, thou art grand 
and majestic without — thou art all resplendent with 
beauties and treasures within. Thou reignest over the 
seven hills, seated on the holiest of them all ; thou 
reignest over the temples of the whole world, the most 
splendid and faultless of them all. Storms have beat 
upon thee ; tempests have raged about thee ; Vandals, 
infidels, and athiests have sneered at thee, and defied the 
power of those who ministered at thy altars ; but thou 
art ever the same, immovable as the everlasting hills. 
Thou art still St. Peter's. On this rock will I build my 
church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. 
But hark ! what is that we hear ? It is distant music 
— a solemn chant — perhaps a public ceremony in a 
neighboring street. No ; it grows louder and louder as 
we advance. The canons of St. Peter's are chanting the 
Divine Office in one of the principal chapels, and a 
thousand people are present and assisting. What a 
change ! A moment ago we were lost in a wilderness 
G 



62 ROME. 

of magnificence — not a human being to be seen : no^ 
we are crowded in a compact mass of human beings, 
and regaled with the pealing of the organ and the rich, 
full chorus of a hundred voices. 

We cross to the opposite side of the nave, to see that 
group of people, of every rank from a cardinal to a 
beggar, and what they are doing. They are surround- 
ing a statue — it is that of St. Peter seated on a throne, 
the right foot projecting a little from under the vest- 
ment. They are reverently, by turns, kissing that foot, 
already polished and much worn by oft-repeated kisses. 
"We were delighted to join the pious group ; and I believe 
that no kisses were that day impressed more hearty and 
sincere than ours. 

Now we have reached the " confession " of St. Peter, 
and on our knees we gaze down upon the tomb of the 
apostles. The time we passed in prayer, the prayers 
we offered, for whom and for what Ave offered them, 
these cannot be recorded here ; but they are written 
above in the great book of the memory of God. 

We visited St. Peter's many times. Indeed, during 
three months that we remained in Pome, there seldom 
intervened more than two or three days between our visits. 
Yet we were never weary. What do I say ? We were 
never half satisfied. With alacrity and joy we entered 
those sacred portals ; slowly and with regret we re- 
turned. I shall never forget the peculiar pleasure I ex- 
perienced every time I entered, in hastening to the vase 
of holy water, saying, " Sprinkle me, O Lord, with 
hyssop, and I shall be clean ; wash me, and I shall be 
whiter than snow." On those occasions, more than on 
any othei', I could form a faint idea of the architectural 
grandeur of the building. The vases, one on either side 



ASCENT TO THE DOilE. 6'B 

of the nave, are held by infant cherubs ; and on entering 
the church so they seem. But as you advance they ap- 
pear to recede from you, and then suddenly increase in 
size, till they assume gigantic proportions ; and when you 
reach them, these infant cherubs you find to be more 
than six feet high, stooping down to present you with 
holy water. 

On one occasion we ascended to the roof of the 
church. Here too we could form some idea of its gran- 
deur. We were in the midst of a sort of town. We 
walked through lanes and streets ; carts were passing to 
and fro ; we were in the midst of the habitations of 
men, yet a hundred and fifty feet from the ground. 
Walls and parapets were about us, domes and statues 
before us, and "the " dome, the glorious, wondrous 
dome, far, far above us. The ascent thus far is so 
gradual that mules and donkeys can make it as well as 
men. Now, however, we commence an ascent that 
mules and donkeys cannot make — that of the dome 
itself. The dome of St. Peter's is constructed of two 
walls, between which are passages and staircases to 'en- 
able visitors to ascend without fatigue. We entered the 
circular galleries inside the dome, and though it made 
our blood curdle, we looked down upon the pavement 
of the church, and saw many human beings in motion, 
like flies crawling. Then we mounted higher, higher, 
higher, till we entered the very ball, which, though 
from the ground it appears but a gilded speck that 
one might hold in his hands, is, in fact, about twenty- 
two feet in circumference, and will hold twelve or thir- 
teen persons comfortably. We did not stop long, for 
the air was very warm and oppressive, and we were glad 
to leave it. 



64 EOME. 

One day we obtained permission to celebrate Mass in 
the subterranean chapel under the high altar. This is 
the church erected by Constantine the Great, and is still 
in a good state. It was lighted by torches, and we cele- 
brated at the very altar used by the early Christians. 

Protestants can write very prettily, and sometimes 
eloquently, about " St. Peter's Church in Kome." So 
could Lord Byron and Gibbon ; and so also might Jews 
and Turks ; but no one, I am certain, can truly appre- 
ciate its grandeur, magnificence, and beauty unless he be 
a Catholic, and can regard it with the faith, the honest 
pride, and the exultation of a Catholic. Indeed, to form 
any thing like an abiding impressian of the almost super- 
natural beauties of this extraordinary Basilica, it must be 
visited on the occasion of some of the grand festivals. 

We were present at the services on Palm Sunday. 
"When we entered the church there were many thousands 
of people assembled, of every class and in every variety 
of costume, all apparently in motion, and making a 
sound as of a heavy surge upon a stony beach. Yet 
there was no crowd — no one jostled another. There 
was room enough for all, and for as many more. Pres- 
ently the sound of martial music was heard, the heavy 
curtain at the main entrance was lifted, and the " noble 
guard" marched in with heavy, measured tramp, in 
their high Wellington boots, and took their station on 
either side of the sanctuary. Then followed several 
battalions of soldiers, who formed in two lines, facing 
each other, extending from the entrance to the high altar. 
Between these lines advanced the procession of public 
officers, prelates, bishops, cardinals, and the entire papal 
court, all in the richest costumes. Next came the 
*' Swiss guard," the only existing corps that has re- 



PIO NONO. 65 

tained the dress and armor of the ages of chivalry. 
Over their party-colored uniform they wore greaves, 
gauntlets, brassets, and breastplates of steel. They wore 
helmets of the same material, and carried long halberts 
in their hands. Last of all entered the pope himself, 
seated in the gestatorial chair, and borne on the shoulders 
of members of his household. This was Pope Pius IX. 
— Glorious Pius IX. — the exile of Gaeta — the head 
of the Christian church on earth. His holiness wore 
a mitre of cloth of silver, without any ornament, and 
a red cope. He proceeded slowly up the nave of the 
church, blessing the kneeling multitudes, until he ar- 
rived at the throne in the sanctuary. The sanctuary is 
behind the high altar, but is large enough for a church, 
and can accommodate several thousand persons. ' 

The palms, which are genuine leaves of the palm tree, 
were then blessed by the holy father, and by him dis- 
tributed to the cardinals, bishops, mitred abbots, generals 
of orders, princes, nobles, and such others as had ob- 
tained permission to receive one. I had the pleasure 
and the honor to be one of these last, and received my 
palm, advancing like the others to the throne, first kiss- 
ing the pope's foot, and then the palm, as his holiness 
presented it. 

I have used the expression " the pope's foot," and I 
have done so intentionally. Some writers like better to 
soften it down, and they talk about kissing an embroi- 
dered cross, and are vastly anxious that all Protestants 
should be informed that there is a cross on the pope's 
shoe which is kissed — just as if they (Protestants) cared 
a penny for an embroidered cross ! For my part, I 
yield to none in my respect for the cross, be it era-^ 
broidered or not embroidered — be it on a shoe or on a 
6* 



QQ EOME. 

diadem. But it was not that which I kissed^ or even 
thought of on this occasion. It was the foot which I 
kissed ; and I woahl gladly have kissed the very dust it 
rested on. Here, seated on his throne, — the throne of 
St. Peter, — sat St. Peter's successor — the Bishop of 
Eome, to whom all patriarchs and bishops of the world 
owe obedience — the head of the church militant — the 
vicar of Jesus Christ ; yet I, an obscure, unknown 
stranger, from a distant land, far over the great waters, 
was permitted to approach him, to kneel before him, and 
even to kiss his feet. St. John, the beloved disciple, 
leaned upon the bosom of Jesus himself; the traitor 
Judas kissed his cheek ; the Magdalen his feet. I could 
not do either, but I did what I could — I kissed the feet 
of his vicegerent upon earth. 

Nothing can be conceived more grand than the cere- 
mony as a whole. You must take in the crowds of 
people present from all parts of the world — the num- 
ber, rank, and costume of kings, dukes, lords, and am- 
bassadors — the wild and unearthly harmony of the 
choir — the almost supernatural chant of the " Pas- 
sion " — the decorations of the sanctuary — the magnifi- 
cent temple, which radiated beauty and grandeur on all 
— the person and character of the sovereign pontiff — 
finally, the sublime theme of the church's meditations — 
the triumphal entry of the Lord into Jerusalem, amid 
the hosannas and palm branches of the shouting and 
exulting multitudes. 

The same week, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday 
afternoons, we assisted at the ofiSce of Tenebrse, in the 
Sistine Chapel. Tenebree means darkness. Formerly 
this office was celebrated in the night, as is still the. 
practice in some religious orders^ though it is usually 



WASHING FEET OP PILGRIMS. 67 

anticipated. The singing was by the pope's choir. I 
shall never hear such singing again, unless in heaven. 
I shall not attempt to describe it. I might as well try- 
to describe the songs of the cherubic hosts. 

On each of these evenings I witnessed a most inter- 
esting and edifying spectacle at the Trinifd de' Pelle- 
grini, This is a hospital founded by St. Philip Neri, 
for the entertainment of poor pilgrims coming to Rome 
from different parts of the world for devotional purposes, 
particularly during the years of jubilee. It is served 
by a " congregation " composed of cardinals, priests, 
princes, nobles, and others, who receive the pilgrims as 
they arrive, provide for their wants, and serve them at 
table. In ordinary years there are, during holy week, 
from three to four hundred lodged in the house. To 
prevent imposture, they who come from a distance of 
more than sixty miles are obliged to present a certificate 
from the bishop or vicar general of their diocese, as an. 
attestation that they come as pilgrims. During the 
paschal time they are allowed to remain three days if 
Italians ; four days if Ultramontanes ; and seven days 
if Portuguese. They pass the day in making visits to 
the seven Basilicas. In the evening, after the " Ave 
Maria," they assemble in chapel to hear a sermon, after 
which commences the ceremony of " washing of feet ; " 
then they ai'e conducted to the refectory for dinner, and, 
after evening prayers, to bed. On the occasion of my 
first visit, the " washing of feet " had just commenced. 
The pilgrims were seated in rows, on benches, in vast 
halls, and were taking off their stockings. Before them 
stood the members of the confraternity, ready to work. 
But such feet as some of the pilgrims presented ! They 
needed much the application of water, to which some 



bo ROME. 

had been strangers perhaps for years. The '' Brothers " 
who were employed in washing them were all dressed 
alike, in a sort of robe, or long sack, so that you could 
not distinguish the prince from the poor mechanic. The 
only persons that could be recognized were the cardinals, 
who always Avore their red calottes. I perceived several 
of them at the work. While washing the feet, they 
repeated with the pilgrims the Lord's Prayei', and other 
devout ejaculations, and at the end kissed the feet that 
had been washed. We then hastened to the refectory, 
and soon the pilgrims entered , in order and took their 
seats. It was a beautiful and affecting sight to behold 
so many men of different languages, colors, costumes, 
and physiognomies come from all parts of the world to 
gain the indulgences of holy week ; and then again so 
many persons of all ranks, both in church and state, 
acting as servants and domestics. After the blessing of 
the table, the " Brothers " immediately began bringing 
in the soup ; then fish, salad, bread, wine, fruit, &c. 
One of the " Brothers " stood in a pulpit during the 
repast, and read, in a loud, clear voice, from a spiritual 
book. After dinner they were all conducted to the dor- 
mitories where they were to sleep, each pilgrim having 
a bed to himself. Here night prayers were offered, 
while each pilgrim knelt at his bedside and responded. 
The female pilgrims are served and washed^'by ladies in 
another part of the building. Gentlemen are not ad- 
mitted to witness it. 

On Wednesday, in holy week, after having celebrated 
Mass at the church of St. Ignatius as usual, I assisted 
at the Mass of the Bishop of Boston in the chapel of the 
Roman College, on which occasion about five hundred 



HOLY THURSDAY. 69 

boys, from ten to twenty years of age, received holy 
conamunion. 

Thursday in Holy "Week was one of the happiest and 
proudest days of my life. I had the supreme happiness, 
and the undeserved honor, of receiving holy communion 
at the hands of the holy father himself. I was indebted 
for this great privilege to the Bishop of Boston, who 
kindly invited me to accompany him as his chaplain. 
The holy father celebrated Mass in his private chapel. 
The Bishop of Boston and the Bishop of Saint Flour 
served the Mass. There were not more than thirty 
persons assisting, — the greater part being prelates and 
officers of the pope's household, — all of whom received 
holy communion. We all breakfasted together in the 
palace of the Vatican ; after which we assisted at High 
Mass in the Sistine Chapel, and accompanied the pro- 
cession to the Repository. This is the day on which 
the church commemorates the institution of the Blessed 
Sacrament — the solace, the strength, and the life of the 
Christian on his earthly pilgrimage. The holy father, 
bareheaded and on foot, under a canopy borne by eight 
bishops, carried the Blessed Sacrament, preceded by all 
the cardinals walking two by two, to the Pauline Chapel, 
which was splendidly illuminated ; the choir meanwhile 
sinscinsf the Panore Ltinsrua. The Blessed Sacrament was 
then deposited in the sepulchre for the adoration of 
the faithful. 

Now the great piazza in front of St. Peter's is filled 
with human beings, — strangers from abroad, citizens of 
Rom 5, peasants from the country, battalions of troops, 
bands of music, pilgrims with their shell and staff, beg- 
gars in rags, old men with crutches, little children and 
infants, — all awaiting the appearance of the pope in the 



70 ROME. 

Loggia in front of the Basilica, from which he imparts 
his solemn benediction to the assembled multitude, to 
the city, and to the world — • urbi et orhi. 

Rapidly again the multitudes pour into St. Peter's to 
witness the washing of the feet. The holy father — a 
toAvel being fastened to his girdle — washed and kissed 
the feet of thirteen priests, dressed in white, called the 
apostles. He afterwards waited upon the same apostles 
at dinner, helping them to soup, and the different 
dishes, &c. 

I also witnessed in the evening the washing of the 
high altar, by the canons of St. Peter's. The relics 
were then shown from one of the galleries under the 
dome, for the veneration of the faithful. These are, — 

1. A portion of the cross on which our blessed Lord 
suffered for our salvation. 

2. The lance with which his side was pierced. 

3. The Volto Santo, or likeness of our Lord's coun- 
tenance, impressed upon the handkerchief with which 
St. Veronica wiped his face while, sinking under the 
weight of his cross, he toiled up the side of Mount 
Calvary. 

Good Friday in Rome can have no interest except to 
a Catholic. The whole city appears wrapped in dark- 
ness and gloom. The Gloria in Excelsis at yesterday's 
Mass was the last song of joy that she has heard. Even 
that shed only a transient gleam of light to show the 
faithful that they were not abandoned and left orphans 
in this season of bereavement and sorrow, but that Jesus 
Christ, who loved his own even unto the end, would 
still abide with them in. the sacrament of his love, which 
on that day he instituted. Immediately after this sweet 
anthem the church again put on her sackcloth, and 



GOOD FRIDAY. 71 

mourned in silence. All tlae bells ceased ringing, from 
the great bell of St. Peter's to the silvery bells of the 
altars. There are in Rome nearly four hundred churches ; 
and convents, monasteries, and schools without number. 
On every one of these are from one to eight bells, of 
every variety of size and tone ; in every church, and 
chapel, and oratory, from one to fifteen altars, where 
the sacrifice of the Mass is offered from early morn till 
noon. The bells of these four hundred churches — of 
all these convents and chapels — the bells of these in- 
numerable altars — are all silent as the sepulchre. The 
effect is singularly solemn and touching. I shall never 
forget the impression it made on me the first Good 
Friday I ever passed in Rome. I repaired to the church 
early in the morning as usual. I could not celebrate ;' 
for no Masses can be celebrated on this day, for it is that 
of the death of the church's Spouse. Where usually 
two thousand Masses are said every day, to-day there 
was none. But I went to adore in the place where his 
feet once stood. The streets were deserted ; my'footsteps 
echoed as I walked along. The very boys refused to 
play. No one thought of amusement. There were no 
cheerful greetings in the way. All I met seemed as if 
suffering under the weight of a heavy calamity. The 
very sky, though serene and without a cloud, appealed 
like a new blue pall just from the loom of its maker. I 
bent my steps to the Gesu, one of the largest and most 
beautiful churches in Rome. The portals stood open as 
usual, and I entered. There were many persons in the 
church, all on their knees, some kissing the floor, others 
smiting their breasts, many in tears. Where, O, where 
is our Lord? We cannot see him — we cannot find 
him. The altar of the Blessed Sacrameut still occupied 



72 ROME. 

its wonted place, but divested of all its ornaments, and 
its divine occupant was not there, for the door of the 
tabernacle stood open. A crowd of persons were gath- 
ered at the gate of one of the chapels ; most of them 
were sobbing. Curiosity impelled me to join them. 
Within the gate, extended on the pavement, was a large 
crucifix of wood. The blood appeai'ed as if issuing 
from the hands, feet, and side of the image, and the 
crowd advanced, one after another, and knelt and bent 
over the crucifix, and kissed the five Avounds. I could 
control myself no longer. I, too, burst into tears, and 
in my turn bent over the crucifix and kissed those 
precious wounds. I then hastened home, and, strange 
as it may seem, I felt happy. After breakfast we were 
again in St. Peter's, and then at the Sistine Chapel. 
We listened again to the chanting of the Passion — to 
the Improperia by Palestrina — to the Trisagion and 
Pange Lingua — and to the Miserere. To convey an 
idea of the harmony, or to describe its thrilling power, 
would be simply impossible. I might as well undertake 
to describe the music of the choirs above. Nowhere 
but in Rome ever was or ever will be such music. 

On Holy Saturday, or Easter Eve, I went to the 
Church of St. John of Lateran, where I witnessed the 
blessing of the fire, and of the paschal candle, and the 
baptism of Jews, Turks, &c., by the Cardinal Vioar of 
Rome. After which the newly-baptized were confirmed 
in the church, and ordination was conferred upon candi- 
dates for the priesthood. 

At the Sistine Chapel the ceremonies were very beau- 
tiful and impressive. There were no candles lighted 
when I entered, except the triple candle on the Epistle 
side, and -the -paschal candle on the Gospel side of the 



EASTER SUNDAY. 73 

altar. The other candles were not lighted till at the 
Agnus Dei of the Litanies. Then the purple covering 
was, as if by magic, removed from the pope's throne, 
the purple antipendium of the altar disappeared, the 
vestments of the celebrant, cardinals, and assistants were 
changed, light seemed to flow in from every side, and 
all was glistening with white and gold. At the intona- 
tion of the Gloria in Excelsis the veil fell from the pic- 
ture over the altar, disclosing a splendid representation 
of our Lord rising from the tomb. The pope's choir 
poured forth its song of exultation ; the great bell of 
St. Peter's played double bass ; the cannon of the Castle 
St. Angelo boomed ; all the bells in Rome rang joyful 
peals ; and all the hearts in Rome beat in unison. 
There was the joromise and assurance of the resurrec- 
tion of the Lord. 

Easter Sunday was a beautiful and brilliant day — 
just warm enough — just cool enough. Having cele- 
brated Mass at the Church of St. Ignatius as usual, we 
repaired at an early hour to St. Peter's. The tide of the 
population of Rome was flowing rapidly towards the 
Vatican. We paused a while to observe it. There were 
every sort of people, of every nation on the earth, 
pressing eagerly on to secure places in the church to 
witness the ceremonies. There were the gay and gor- 
geous coaches of the cardinals, some of them resembling 
huge crystals in golden frames, drawn by the noblest 
jet black steeds, elegantly caparisoned. There were 
kings, queens, and princes, foreign ambassadors and 
oflicers of state, in splendid carriages, with coachmen 
and footmen in livery. There were lords, ladies, and 
gentlemen rolling up in their coaches in interminaole 
succession, displaying to the admiring multitudes silks, 
7 



74 ROME. 

satins, velvets, and spangles — gold, silver, swords, and 
epaulets. There were priests, monks, friars, cameratas 
of students, entire colleges" and schools, each in a dif- 
ferent, all in a graceful, costume. There were many 
battalions of troops — Erench and Italian — infantry 
and cavalry — marching, countermarching, and falling 
into line, with clean and tasteful uniforms, and bur- 
nished muskets and helmets glittering in the sunbeams. 
There were bands of martial music, and they were all 
" discoursing." And though last, not the least interest- 
ing, there were thousands upon thousands of the inhab- 
itants of E.ome, and peasants from the country, old men 
and matrons, young men and maidens, boys and girls, in 
the most curious and picturesque costumes imaginable — 
many of whom had travelled miles on foot to receive the 
blessing of the holy father. 

Most fortunately I secured a fine position within the 
church, where I could see to the greatest advantage the 
grand procession as it passed slowly up the nave of the 
vast and venerable Basilica. I was equally fortunate in 
my position at the Mass, which was celebrated by the 
pope himself. His holiness received communion stand- 
ing. At the Elevation the choir ceased singing, the 
troops knelt at the word of command, the multitudes 
were prostrate, and there reigned a silence as of death, 
which was presently interrupted by a sweet strain of 
mysterious music, such as I had never heard before. It 
proceeded from trumpets or horns, concealed somewhere, 
either in the dome, or in a tribune over the main portal 
of the church, or in both. The music of the Mass was 
Palestrina's. 

After Mass I had another view of the procession as it 
ascended the Scala Regia, and I was in the great hall near 



ST. Peter's. 75 

the Loggia before the pope entered. The Loggia is the 
balcony from which the benediction is given to the peo- 
ple. I observed several prelates and officers of the 
palace standing in the Loggia and looking at the multi- 
tudes below, and as the pope had not yet arrived, I 
boldly stepped out too, and mingled with them, and 
gently pushed my way till I reached the balustrade ; and 
then what a view was presented to my eyes ! A hundred 
and fifty thousand people in the great piazza — dragoons, 
soldiers, officers, peasants, and citizens, all embraced, as 
it were, within the arms of St. Peter's, that is, within 
the semicircular colonnades that stretch on either side 
from the church into the piazza — every face of them 
turned upward to the Loggia, expectant. It was like a 
brief and strajige vision. In a few seconds it was dis- 
pelled, for I heard the whisper behind me, " 11 papa ! " 
In another moment I was back in the Sala, and his holi- 
ness was about to enter the Loggia. When the sovereign 
pontiff appeared the trumpets sounded, and instantly the 
multitudes and the troops dropped upon their knees. 
After the prayers and responses prescribed by the ritual, 
the holy father rose with majesty, opened, extended, and 
elevated his arms, as though about to bless the whole 
world, and in a voice loud and clear, and with devout unc- 
tion, as though it proceeded from the very depths of his 
soul, he .pronounced the sublime words of benediction : 
Benedicat vos, omnipotens Deus — Pater, et Films, et 
Spiritus Sanctus ; at each of the titles of the blessed 
Trinity making the sign of the cross over the people, first 
towards the left, then in front, then towards the right. 
All other sounds were hushed but the voice of Pius IX., 
and I believe that it could be heard by all the multitudes 
below. An instant more and all was changed. The 



76 ROME. 

guns of St. Angelo fired — the bells rang all over Rome 
— the bands played — the drums beat — the multitudes 
were oa foot, and their noise was like the roaring of a 
tempest. This glorious scene alone was worth a voyage 
to Rome. In no other place was such a sight ever be- 
held. In no other place is such a scene possible. 

In the evening we had a fine view of St. Peter's illu- 
minated. We went early, in order to see the men — 
about three hundred — who were setting the lamps in 
their places. For the illumination is always on the out- 
side of the building. It made my blood curdle to see 
them like files, or grasshoppers rather, running along 
and leaping over friezes, cornices, and huge mouldings, 
only secured from falling to the pavement by ropes fas- 
tened to their bodies, which were lowered^ or hoisted, or 
carried to the right or to the left by those above, accord- 
ing as the workmen wished to place a lamp here or 
there, a signal being given by themselves as they de- 
sired to change their position. Sometimes they would 
encounter a vast projecting cornice, or the capital of a 
column, in the way of their ascent or descent. Nothing 
daunted, they press both feet, drawn up, against the side 
of the building, and, by a vigorous push, swing them- 
selves eight or ten feet off" into the air, over the heads 
of the horrified spectators, (the rope .meanwhile being 
paid out or hauled in from above,) and then find them- 
selves at or near the place they were seeking. 

The illumination was exceedingly beautiful and bril- 
liant, bringing out in a marvellous manner the outlines 
and architectural proportions of the building. It sur- 
passed every thing that can be imagined of the kind. 
The cross on the summit, the entire dome, the facade, 
the colonnades, were one blaze of light. There are two 



DISPLAY OF FIREWOEKS.. 77 

illuminations. The first, which lasts till near nine 
o'clock, is mild and beautiful. The second, which be- 
gins just before the other ends, is brilliant and dazzling. 
The great marvel of the last is the rapidity and sudden- 
ness with which it is accomplished. The signal is given 
by the discharge of a cannon. The same instant a blaze 
of fire is seen flaming from the summit of the cross. In 
a moment it spreads as if by a train of gunpowder, and 
the whole structure becomes a blaze of light, equalling 
almost the sun in brilliancy. This last illumination con- 
tinues during a great part of the night. Nothing else 
on this earth can be made to equal or even to resemble 
it. We gazed in silent wonder till ten o'clock ; then 
went home to think and dream about it. 

On Easter Monday evening we witnessed the display 
of fireworks on the Pincian Hill. They were the most 
brilliant and the finest not only that we had ever seen, 
but that we had even conceived of. There were silvery 
cataracts ; fountains and jets of gold ; emerald palaces 
and gorgeous temples, glittering with innumerable 
lights ; vast candelabra of seven branches ; an emei'ald 
atmosphere dissolving into one of a rich crimson ; the 
booming of cannons ; a wild and rapid discharge of in- 
numerable pieces of ordnance, the smoke of which as- 
cended in heavy, sluggish clouds, and instantly caught 
different hues — red, crimson, scarlet, green, and violet ; 
and hundreds of rockets, as though shot from a fountain, 
and descending as they burst, throwing out different 
colored lights in overwhelming showers, illuminating 
the whole scene, and discovering the presence of the 
immense multitudes packed together in the Piazza del 
Popolo. 

A few years ago I was in Kome on the festival of 
7* 



78 ROME. 

Corpus Chrlsti, and it will perhaps not be tlrought irrel- 
evant in this connection to extract from my notes taken 
at that time a description of the procession and ceremo- 
nies upon the occasion. 

At about half past six o'clock in the morning I was 
in the Via Montserrato, on my way to St. Peter's. When 
I reached the bridge of St. Angelo, which crosses the 
Tiber opposite the celebrated castle which, some two 
thousand years since, was the sepulchre of the Emperor 
Adrian, I perceived, by the immense number of carriages 
and crowds on foot that filled the bridge and the prin- 
cipal streets leading to it, that I was none too early. I 
threaded my way as rapidly as I could, and at length 
reached the magnificent piazza in front of the great 
Basilica. The colonnades were decorated with costly 
hangings, and were made to unite at the lower extremity 
of the piazza by a vast canopy spread upon temporary 
posts of immense height, and wide enough for six dra- 
goons to ride abreast under it. The scala regia, or great 
stairway to the Vatican, was tastefully hung with white 
and scarlet on one side, and with Gobelin tapestry on 
the other. The figures represented on the taspestry 
were scenes from the Gospels and the Acts of the Apos- 
tles. Finding the throngs rapidly increasing, I sought 
a situation from which to see the procession, and at 
length hired a chair under the colonnade, near the scala 
regia, in the front row. It was well I did, for in a few 
moments every seat was occupied, and none could be had 
for money. After waiting here some time the procession 
was announced by the flourish of trumpets and the beat 
of drums. "When these martial sounds had died away, 
a multitude of voices were heard, as of angels singing. 
These were the boys of San Michele, one of the noblest 



CORPUS CHRISTI. 79 

of the many pious institutions of Rome. Their sweet 
voices filled the air, and with seraphic strains heralded 
the advent of the King of kings. The words sung were 
those of the hymn Pange Lingua. But these passed 
on, and to my regret. They were followed, however, 
by another choir of angels, all in white robes. They, 
too, sang in strains celestial ; but just as their voices 
were growing faint in the distance, and my ear was 
strained to catch the dying notes, suddenly there burst 
forth near me the deep-toned and solemn music of 
men. These were Franciscan friars, one hundred 
and fifty in number. Then followed friars in black 
robes, in number seventy. Then one hundred and sev- 
enty Franciscans, fifty Augustinians, one hundred Do- 
minicans, and about one hundred and fifty religious, of 
orders the names of which I did not know. Next came 
thirty boys, in white cassocks and surplices, reading 
devoutly from books which they held, and responding 
one to the other ; and they were followed by sixty-four 
boys in surplices and purple cassocks, holding birettas 
in their hands before their breasts. Then appeared three 
priests with stoles, and seventy other priests with only 
surplices. Next came the prelates, canons, choirs, &c., 
of the seven Basilicas. Before each Basilica was borne 
a sort of canopy, made of different colored cloths. The 
whole number of priests following, as attached to the 
seven Basilicas, was two hundred and forty. St. John 
of Lateran came last. Next appeared the prelates, 
chamberlain, mace bearers, and others attached to the 
papal court. Two bore each a triple crown ; fifty- 
seven v/ere in purple or crimson robes, twenty of whom 
wore surplices. There followed nine priests in chasu- 
blesj and thirteen bishops, with (iopes and mitres, at- 



80 EOME. 

tended by their chaplains. Between thirty and forty 
cardinals followed with their attendants. Next came 
a band of martial music^ containing almost every in- 
strument that was ever invented, and played by the 
best musicians in the world. Then came the body guard 
and immediate attendants of the holy father ; and at 
length approached the pope himself, — the good and 
venerable Gregory XVI., — borne in his chair of state 
by twelve men, under a canopy borne by eight students 
in theology, a prelate on either side bearing the flam- 
bellce. In his hands the holy father reverently carried 
Him who was the object of all this pageant — Him who 
can never be sufficiently honored, w^ho indeed aiks not 
the applause of men, but who for this very reason is 
the more worthy to receive all honor, and glory, and 
praise ; Him before Avhom angels bow and archangels 
veil their faces — before whom the thousands upon thou- 
sands there assembled fell prostrate, like fields of wheat 
swept by a strong wind — the King of kings and Lord 
of lords, mercifully veiling the splendors of his majesty 
under the form and appearance of the consecrated host. 
Last of all followed the pope's troops, infantry and cav- 
alry, accompanied by several bands of music, constantly 
playing. 

Amid all this the numerous bells of St. Peter were 
incessantly ringing, the mammoth one booming at inter- 
vals, and the canons of St. Angelo were constantly firing, 
which added to the excitement of the scene. Soon as 
the procession had passed I left my seat, and hastened to 
secure a place in St. Peter's before the entrance of the 
pope, and fortunately succeeded. The magnificent tem- 
ple was brilliantly illuminated, and, vast as it is, all 
hung with white^ scarlet, and crimson velvets and silks 



EOMAN CHURCHES. 81 

All the wmdows were darkened, and the church pre- 
sented a most remarkable appearance. The procession 
entered and knelt around the high altar, each holding 
a lighted candle, appearing in the distance where I stood 
like a vast ocean of fire. Numerous lights glittered on 
the altar, and covered it, and the hundred gorgeous 
lamps of bronze that burn day and night around the 
tomb of St. Peter gave a beautiful relief. 

I never before saw so many people in St. Peter's. 
There must have been at least fifty thousand on their 
knees. The Holy of holies had been deposited in its;^'e- 
ceptacle on the high altar, and after the singing of the 
Pange Lingua by the Pope's choir, and the customary 
prayers, the holy father rose from his knees, ascended 
the steps of the altar, and gave the benediction, in silence 
so profound, that throughout that vast assemblage the 
clicking of the chain against the censer was distinctly 
heard, and that was all that could be heard. 

As I am not compiling a guide book, I shall not un- 
dertake to describe the churches in Rome. There are 
nearly four hundred within and without the walls, not 
one of which is wanting in objects of great interest to 
the Catholic. The Basilicas, of course, are the first to 
claim his attention. These are the more ancient and 
venerable churches. Their architecture is peculiar ; their 
form is that of an oblong rectangle ; the roof of the nave 
is supported by two rows of columns, and the roofs of 
the side aisles are much lower than the principal roof. 
Among the Basilicas there are seven which enjoy a pre- 
eminence, on account of the great indulgences attached 
to them. They are called the Seven Basilicas. These 
are, St. Peter's, St. John of Lateran, St. Paul's, St. 
Mary Major, St. Lorenzo, Santa Croce, and St. Sebastian, 



82 ROME. 

The churcli of St. John of Lateran claims, by an in- 
scription on the front, to be the mother and head of all 
the churches of the city and of the world — omnium tjr- 

BIS ET ORBIS ECCLESIARUM MATER ET CAPUT. The first 

thing that strikes you on entering is the marvellous 
beauty and fitness of the statuary and sculpture. There 
are, first, the prophets of the Old Testament. Above them, 
on one side of the nave, are the figures or types relating to 
the Messias, and on the other side, the facts related in the 
Gospels which verify them. Below them are colossal 
statues in marble of the twelve apostles in as many 
niches, and under each niche is a dove holding an olive 
branch in his beak. 

St. Mary Major is of a very different style of archi- 
tecture ; yet it is eminently Roman, and you perceive at 
once that it is a Basilica. It is a vast temple of sacred 
magnificence. The attention is not distracted by statu- 
ary, sculpture, and painting, but is concentrated on the 
incomparable beauty of the long rows of columns, the 
walls, and the ceiling. 

St. Paul's is not yet finished. When completed, it 
will be one of the most splendid churches in, Rome. 

The church of St. Clement is one of the most ancient 
and interesting in the world ; and the Gesu, the 
Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli, and that of St. Ig- 
natius, are among the grandest and most imposing, next 
after the Basilicas. 

MIRACULOUS CONVERSION OF AN ISRAELITE. 

There is a church near the College of the Propa- 
ganda which I visited with a peculiar interest — it is 
that of St. Andrea delle Fratte. It was in this church 



ratisbonne's conversion. 83 

tliat occurred the miraculous and sudden conversion 
of Ratisbonne, the Jew, on the 22d day of January, 
in the year 1842. I was on a visit to Home at the 
time, and carefully informed myself of all the partic- 
ulars. I was present at his baptism, and was near him 
on the occasion of his receiving holy communion for 
the first time ; and, as this book is written for Catholics, 
and to convey information respecting their faith, as it 
exists in other lands, I shall give the story of that re- 
markable conversion as I received it at the time from 
eye witnesses, and intimate friends of this highly fa- 
vored servant of Maiy. The scoffer will sneer, and the 
incredulous will smile, at the story, but the Christian 
will give glory to God, " who hath mercy on whom he 
will ; " he will adore the mercy and power of Him who, 
by his divine grace, can in an instant subdue the most 
stubborn will, and break open the fountains of contri- 
tion in the most obdurate heart ; he will acknowledge 
the efficacy of fervent and persevering prayer, and the 
marvellous power of the Blessed Mother of God. 

Alphonso Ratisbonne was born in Strasbourg, on the 
confines of France, in 1815, on the 1st day of May, 
the month dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, of a wealthy 
and renowned Jewish family. With his years increased 
his affection for the religion in which he was born and 
educated ; while, at the same time, he conceived for 
Christianity in general, and for the Catholic faith in par- 
ticular, so strong an aversion, that when, some years since, 
his brother Theodore* became a convert to Christianity, 
he indignantly discarded him, and refused to be recon- 



* This brother is a Catholic clergyman, distingtiished alike by hia zeal 
and by his pen. 



84 ROME. 

ciled to him. Alphonso was betrothed to a Hebrew 
damsel of beauty, wealth, and other rare endowments. 
High birth and family, refinement of education, senti- 
ments of the heart, worldly interest, every thing, com- 
bined to attach Ratisbonne to his religion. 

Previous to his marriage, which was to take place the 
ensuing summer, he resolved to make a tour of pleasure. 
Accordingly, towards the close of the autumn of 1841, 
he left Marseilles for Naples, and there waited an op- 
portunity to embark for Sicily, Malta, and Constantino- 
ple, with the intention of returning to France by land. 
But the thought occurring that in that case he should 
probably not visit Rome, and perhaps never see it, he 
suddenly altered his purpose, and resolved to hasten to 
Rome, and make a short stay there of about two weeks. 

Having passed several days in Rome, gratifying his 
curiosity, he was so far from evincing the smallest spark 
of attachment, or even respect, for Christianity, that 
after a visit to the Ghetto* he felt and expressed the 
strongest sentiments of compassion for the degraded 
condition in which he found his unfortunate country- 
men, and of detestation of the Christians, whom he re- 
garded as their oppressors. On the 17th of January, 
the day fixed for his return to Naples, he went to take 
leave of his friend, the Baron Theodore di Bussieres, a 
pious convert from the Protestant to the Catholic faith. 
This gentleman, strong in faith and fervent in charity, 
dexterously drew Ratisbonne into a conversation upon 
religion. Having attacked him on various points, and 
finding his heart a stronghold of Judaism, and utterly 



* A part of Rome assigned to the Jews, of whom there are about tea 
thousand. 



ratisbonne's conversion. 85 

impregnable to his arguments, he at last, in a most affec- 
tionate and gentle manner, entreated him, as a token of 
friendly regard, to accept of a medal * of the Blessed 
Virgin, which he offered him. Alphonso stoutly refused ; 
but the baron still urging, he was ashamed to be thought 
obstinate, or wanting in courtesy to his friend, and, with 
loud laughter, suffered him to throw the string over his 
neck. Nor did the baron stop here, but with many 
and judicious arguments, pressed him to defer for a few 
days his departure ; to which at length Alphonso re- 
luctantly consented. Meanwhile were offered to the 
throne of all grace, fervent prayers, by several devout 
persons, that it would please the divine mercy to subdue 
this stubborn soul. Among these was the pious Count 
de la Ferronays, also a friend of Alphonso, who, by a 
remarkable providence, was, on that very evening of the 
17th of January, overtaken by death, leaving his 
family, and a numerous circle of friends, overwhelmed 
with sorrow at so unexpected a bereavement. 

On the 20th of January, while preparations were 
making for the funei'al obsequies of the deceased, in the 
Church of St. Andrea della Fratte, Bussieres, who never 
ceased his pious solicitude and efforts in behalf of his 
young Israelite, invited him to ride in his carriage. 
They drove to the Church of St. Andrea, where Bus- 
sieres alleged that he had a little business to transact 
with the monks attached to the convent. Thinking it 
would not be agreeable to sit outside in the carriage, 
Alphonso replied that he would go into the church, and 
wait there. Thither he went, and as usual when visiting 
a church, gazed about coldly and indifferently. It might 

* It was the miraculous French medal. 

8 



86 ROME. 

have been about ten or twelve minutes, wben Bassieres 
returned. E.atisbonne was not to be seen. The baron, 
surprised, sought him in different parts of the church, 
and at last, to his amazement, espied him on his knees 
in the chapel of St. Michael the Archangel, before the 
altar, his face buried in his hands, and prostrate on the 
pavement. Astonished, and uncertain what to think, 
Bussieres approached and gently shook him two or three 
times, which AlpUonso appeared not to notice. He 
called his friend by name, and shook him more vio- 
lently, when, as though just awaked from a trance, he 
slowly raised his head, and turning his face towards the 
baron, all bathed in tears, but beaming with celestial 
joy, and clasping his hands, burst forth in these and 
other like expressions : " O, how that man has prayed 
for me ! " alluding to the deceased count j " O, how good 
God is ! O, how vile must I appear in the sight of 
the angels ! How glorious is Christianity ! Happy, 
happy day ! O, what have I seen ! how bright and 
lovely ! " and he drew forth from his bosom the medal 
which he had worn from the day it was given him, 
and tenderly kissing it, again extolled the mercy and the 
majesty of God. 

Bussieres was confounded. He knew not what to 
think. He felt awed as one feels in the presence of 
a miracle. He lifted his friend from his knees, and 
led him, or rather bore him, in his arms from the church. 
Seated in the carriage, he inquired, " Whither shall we 
drive ? " '' Wherever you please," replied the Jew ; 
" after what I have seen, I have nothing to do but to obey." 
Arrived at his lodgings, Bussieres endeavored, but in 
vain, to calm his agitation. At length Eatisbonne, his 
countenance radiant with joy, exclaimed, "I can ex- 



ratisbonne's baptism. b1 

plain nothing now ; take me, O take me to a Christian 
priest; what I have to reveal, I must say it on my 
knees." Bussieres then conducted him to the Gesu, the 
professed house of the Jesuits. There, in presence of 
Father Villefort, he took the medal from his breast, and 
kissed it with the tenderest emotion, and then spoke as 
follows : '' I have seen her ! I have seen her ! I was 
alone in the church. On a sudden, the whole edifice 
vanished from my sight, and presently, in that chapel, 
a blaze of glory burst upon my vision, and in the 
midst of that radiant splendor, erect upon the altar, and 
full of sweetness and of majesty, I beheld the Virgin 
Mary, as she is here represented upon this medal. 
With her hand she signed for me to kneel. A power 
irresistible drew me towards the Virgin. She seemed 
to me to say, ' Be of good courage.' She did not 
speak, but I comprehended all." 

These are the very words with which Ratisbonne 
divulged the manner of his miraculous conversion. All 
absorbed with gratitude and love in contemplating the 
goodness and condescension of his divine Lord and of 
his Blessed Mother, he thought now of nothing but to 
prepare himself for his spiritual regeneration in the 
waters of baptism. He secluded himself from all inter- 
course with the world, and till the day of his baptism, 
passed his time in prayer and other spiritual exercises 
in the house of the Jesuits, and under the direction of 
Father Villefort. 

The sacred rite of baptism was administered in the 
Church of the Gesu, at the altar of St. Ignatius, on the 
31st day of January — of which intensely interesting 
ceremony I had the unspeakable privilege to be an eye 
witness. At an early hour the vast edifice was thronged 



8a ROME. 

by an assembly drawn chiefly from tlie higher walks of 
life. All were anxious to behold the face of this He- 
brew youth, on whom Heaven had so signally and so 
beneficently smiled. The holy rite was administered by 
his eminence Cardinal Partrizi, Cardinal Vicar of Rome. 
After the customary exorcisms at the great door of the 
church, the cardinal celebrant, arrayed in pontifical 
robes, conducted the neophyte, vested with the white 
robe of the catechumens, to the foot of the altar. 
Father Villefort accompanied him on one side, and the 
unwearied, ever-faithful and devoted Bussieres, as his 
godfather, on the other. Here were administered the 
sacraments of baptism and confirmation. Vain would it 
be to attempt to describe the deep emotion, the fervent 
piety, the unaffected humility, the heavenly joy, which 
beamed from the countenance of the neophyte. But 
every one could read it there. Gifted by nature with 
manly beauty ; that beauty radiant with celestial light ; 
the snow-white baptismal robe contrasting with his raven 
locks ; the tears that plentifully coursed his cheeks ; his 
devout and edifying deportment ; his very Hebrew ori- 
gin, — every thing combined to heighten the intense in- 
terest of the occasion. He received the name of Mary 
at his own request. The sermon, which drew tears from 
many eyes, being ended, and the great sacrifice con- 
summated, Katisbonne now approached to receive for the 
first time the most Holy Body of his Lord. So deeply 
was he affected that he could scarce walk to the foot of 
the altar. Bussieres supported him while receiving the 
Blessed Eucharist, and raising him from his knees, as- 
sisted him to the end of the altar, where, prostrate on 
the pavement, he offered his thanksgiving. After his 
communion, a crowd of individuals, distinguished alike 



CICERONES. a» 

for their piety and their rank, desired to demonstrate to 
the young convert their fraternal congratulations, by 
partaking with him of the same eucharistic rite. 

Who could witness this scene, so worthy of the 
golden days of primitive Christianity, at once so im- 
posing and sublime, so manifestly illumined and sancti- 
fied by the divine presence, — who could witness the 
edifying devotion of the catechumen, the deep emotion 
of the celebrant, the devout strife of the many who 
crowded to the altar, and the pious feeling that was dif- 
fused throughout the assembled multitude, — without 
sentiments of the strongest emotion ? — and what un- 
christian man could witness it without bowing to the 
sublime grandeur and ineffable sweetness of a religion 
on which is so manifestly stamped the impress of 
divinity ? 

Alphonso Marie Ratisbonne was now a Christian ; and 
in return for the signal favor he had received from 
Heaven, he consecrated himself, with all his talents, and 
powers, and youthful energies, to the service of God. 
He forsook all, and followed Christ. He cheerfully 
yielded up all claim to wealth and patrimony ; he wrote 
a letter to his betrothed, to release her from her vows ; 
and commenced, with pious ardor, a course of prepara- 
tion for the priesthood. He is now a zealous Catholic 
priest, laboring for the conversion of sinners, and espe- 
cially of the Israelites, his brethren. 

CICERONES. 

There is a class of men in Italy called Cicerones. 
Their office is to accompany tourists from place to place, 
to point out all objects worthy of notice, to expatiate on 
3* 



90 EOME. 

the merits of all sorts of things, and to make as much 
money as they can. The money making I have put last, 
but with them it is always the first, and the most im- 
portant thing. Truth, in their estimation, unless it pays, 
is a useless drug. Falsehood, if lucrative, is a priceless 
treasure. They are a race shrewd, intelligent, and well 
drilled. They are unsurpassed in their knowledge of 
character. Are they employed by a party of conserva- 
tives ? How readily they take their cue ! It was here 
where Rossi was murdered. There the bloodthirsty 
rabble rushed from a cafe and horribly mutilated, and 
finally killed, a worthy priest, bent on an errand of 
charity. In that piazza the brave defenders of their 
sovereign made a firm stand against the Canaglia, that 
were advancing, torch in hand, to set fire to the palace. 
In such a church a holy friar, by his tiiuely exhortations, 
saved the commonwealth from anarchy and civil war. 
The next day we will suppose them to be employed by 
a party of radicals. How wonderfully they adapt them- 
selves ! Here, gentlemen, is where the patriots were 
cruelly massacred. There Mezzocodardo was overpow- 
ered by a mercenary police, and dragged to prison. In 
such a window a defenceless woman was shot by the 
tyrant's orders, because she Was shielding her hus- 
band from the infuriate rage of government minions, 
but not till, over her shoulders, he had slaughtered 
several, of the guardsmen. Is it a party of Catho- 
lics ? Protestants are sure to receive their deserts, and 
even more. Is it a party of Protestants ? Catholics 
are sunk down and steeped in ignorance and supersti- 
tion, and the priests are a profligate and debauched class. 
If the evil ended here, with the cicerones, it would not 
be so ])ad. The cicerones might be despised, not feared. 



BOOK MAKERS. 91 

But, unhappily, this is not the end. For it should be 
known that nearly all the books of travels that issue 
almost weekly from the presses of Great Britain and the 
United States are compiled from information derived 
irom cicerones ; not from personal knowledge, or actual 
observation. We read of a " Three Months in Italy." 
What can a stranger, with a smattering of the Italian 
language, and that so weak that he knows not even how 
to spell the commonest words, what can such a man 
know of Italy in three months ? We read of tours — 
but how are these tours made ? By post-chaises, or 
diligence, or steamboat, or railroad. The tourist tarries 
a week, or at most a fortnight, in each large city, hires 
a cicerone, and goes about a " sight-seeing," and, lo ! 
brings forth a book — by far the larger portion having 
been written by himself, or some one else, long before 
he started on his tour. For my part, I have never read 
one of their *' Pencilings by the Way," or " Crayon 
Sketches," or " Foreign Correspondence," or " Letters 
from Abroad," written or compiled by my Protestant 
friends, that was not characterized either by gross igno- 
rance or by malicious misrepresentation. They use, in- 
deed, eloquent and beautiful language in describing the 
pomp and pride of cardinals and prelates — the harsh- 
ness and cruelty of the papal government — the degra- 
dation, ignorance, and superstition of the common people 
— the cupidity, extortion, and grossness of the priests, 
&c., &c. But it is false. Every word of it is false. I 
have lived among them ; have become acquainted with 
persons of all classes ; I have observed them narrowly ; 
and I know it to be false. 

How comes it, then, that so many intelligent writers 
and amiable men persist in asserting, year after year, and 



92 ROME. 

tour after tour, the existence of these abominations and 
abuses ? and assert, as they do, that their information has 
been derived from " intelligent Italians and Catholics, 
who, while they mourned their existence, had too much 
candor to deny it " ? 

But this brings me back to the cicerones again ; and, 
in order to reply to this question, I beg the reader's 
attention to the following incident, which occurred while 
I was in Rome. 

Mr. B., an intelligent and wealthy Protestant gentle- 
man, arrived in Rome during my residence in the Eter- 
nal City, whose acquaintance I had the honor and pleas- 
ure of making at that time, and who was my travelling 
companion and intimate friend during many of my 
subsequent journeys. He went to Rome for the purpose 
of examining for himself the religious and literary in- 
stitutions of Rome. One day he was invited by a party 
of American tourists to join them in a visit to some of 
the charitable institutions of the city. 

They employed a very celebrated cicerone, named 
Pietro Nobili — the same, I believe, who has officiated 
in the same capacity for some of our most distinguished 
tourists. He was recommended to them as a very intel- 
ligent man, and a liberal Catholic. Accordingly, the 
gentlemen of the party plied him very freely with ques- 
tions — holding their note books in their hands, ready 
to record his answers. Every individual of the party, 
except Pietro Nobili, was a Protestant, and Pietro No- 
bili knew it. Accordingly, he served up an entertain- 
ment suited to his knowledge of Protestant appetites. 
He began by abusing the clergy in general — lamenting 
in most touching language their gross ignorance and 
shameless immoralities — at the same time assuring his 



POPE AND CARDINALS. 93 

gaping auditors that good men might undoubtedly be 
found among them — excusing their conduct, at the same 
time, as well as he could — and pronouncing an eloquent 
dissertation on the celibacy of the clergy, and the wealth, 
hospitality, and good cheer of the monks, 

" But the cardinals ? " asked one of the party ; " surely 
they are not so ignorant or immoral ? " 

" O, no — by no means. The cardinals are learned 
men, and very accomplished in their manners. And 
why ? They are princes, and roll in wealth. They grow 
rich, however, at the expense of the poor ; and that 
accounts for the multitude of beggars that throng our 
streets and churches." 

" But at least they are moral in their lives ? " 

" Yes, certainly. That is, as far as it is necessary 
that they should be. Of course, they are but men, and 
must " 

" But you do not mean that they marry ? " 

" No — but you see that large building opposite." 
fit was the great hospital of St. Michele, for the educa- 
tion of hundreds of poor children, and for the relief of 
adult paupers.) '^ Well, that is an immense seraglio — ■ 
magnificently fitted up — and it is visited by none but 
cardinals." 

" But does not such an institution give scandal to 
good Catholics ? " 

" O, no ; we become accustomed to such things, and 
only smile now and then." (Here followed a great flour- 
ish of note books and pencils.) 

" And the pope — is he a good man ? " 

** Yes, a most holy old man. We all love the Holy 
Father. He is a man, of course, and has his little weak- 
nesses." (A great rustling of leaves among the note 



94 ROME. 

books.) " He has a high regard for the fair sex — and '* 
(lowering his voice) "it is said, indeed " 

Mr. B. had been for some time boihng with indigna- 
tion at this fellow's impudence and imposture, and he 
could contain no longer : — 

"Look you here, my friend. You may stop that 
nonsense. You have given us your opinion of the 
priests and cardinals, and you knew full well that you 
were uttering falsehoods. I will now give you my 
opinion of you ; and I know that I speak truth. You 
are an infamous liar and an unprincipled villain, and I 
should serve you right if I denounced you to the au- 
thorities of Rome. For whom do you take us ? Is it 
for Protestants ? So we are. But dare you thence con- 
clude that we are fools and knaves like yourself, and the 
contemptible class to which you belong ? Gentlemen, 
we are acquiring ignorance, and not knowledge, from 
the services of this wretch. For my part, I came to 
Bome to obtain knowledge, and I want no such teacher 
as this." 

The whole party, when they saw the miserable pol- 
troon thunderstruck, pale, trembling, and silent, were 
satisfied that Mr. B. was in the right, and they ap- 
plauded his zeal. The fellow was forthwith discharged, 
and never again employed by any of that party. It is 
to be hoped that Pietro Nobili learned that day a salu- 
tary lesson, that he will not soon forget. And Ameri- 
cans, too, may learn a lesson. They may learn of what 
sort of materials travellers' note books, and " first im- 
pressions " are but too often composed, and it may aid 
them to form a judgment of their credibility and au- 
thenticity. We often read in books of travels of the 
immoralities of the priesthood, of the irreverence of the 
people, of the indolence and grossness of monks, of the 



THE COLISEUM, 95 

failings of nuns, &c., &c., and they generally introduce 
them with a flourish to this effect : " We have derived 
our information from a highly respectable and intelli- 
gent Roman, [or Neapolitan, or Florentine, as the case 
may be,] himself a Catholic, who, by his standing in 
society, and association with men of the highest rank in 
both church and state, has had every opportunity of 
obtaining correct information and forming just conclu- 
sions." Just such a man was the redoubtable Pietro 
Nobili. • 

It is not strange that the people who read their books 
are caught in the trap, and sincerely believe that all these 
things are true. For, say they, this book is printed and 
published to the world. It therefore invites criticism. 
If any of its assertions are untrue, their falsehood can 
be exposed, and the character and influence of the book 
must fall. Moreover, the author is a man of learning 
and research. He is known among his friends as a gen- 
tleman and an honest fellow. Therefore all he has set 
down must be true. All we have to reply is, that the 
conclusion is a false one, even though we concede the 
premises. For, with all the fellow's honesty, education, 
and polish, he may be the dupe of one more cunning and 
selfish than he. And if the author be not quite so dis- 
interested as he receives credit for, he knows well that 
the criticisms of those he respects will be friendly, and 
that those of an opposite nature will neither be read nor 
regarded by those for whose tastes he caters. 

THE COLISEUM. 

Now let us hasten to the Coliseum. No Christian can 
be long in Rome without making a pilgrimage to this 
spot, consecrated by the blood of so many of the primi- 



96 coliseum:. 

tiye martyrs. In speaking of ancient Rome in the days 
of her greatest glory, I remarked that it contained a vast 
amphitheatre, capable of seating a hundred thousand 
spectators, where men fought with beasts, and with each 
other, and where hungry beasts were let loose from 
subterranean caverns upon defenceless Christians, This 
was the Coliseum. It still stands, in a tolerably good 
state of preservation. The circuit of the outer wall is 
about sixteen hundred feet ; the arena, where the gladia- 
torial combats took place, is about three hundred and 
eighty by two hundred and eighty feet. It is more than 
a hundred and fifty feet in height, divided into four 
stories, separated by large projecting cornices. On one 
side a considerable portion of this vast edifice is pre- 
served to its entire height. Now let us enter ; but let 
us go in as Christians, remembering that this is hal- 
lowed ground ; every particle of that earth is a sacred 
relic, for it hath drunk the blood of Christian martyrs. 

As we passed reverently under one of the main 
arches of entrance, the first object that arrested our at- 
tention was a lofty cross of wood, erected on a pedestal 
of stone, in the centre of the arena. A few persons 
were kneeling upon the steps which lead to the foot of 
the cross, while others hastily ascended the steps, knelt 
for a moment, kissed the wood of the cross, then con- 
tinued on their way. A little way in advance of us were 
three French soldiers, without muskets, apparently en- 
joying a promenade together. Curiosity impelled me to 
watch these soldiers, to see what they would do. Will 
they, too, kiss the cross ? will they bend their knees on the 
stone steps ? and in presence of so many persons as were 
at that time standing in groups or walking in all parts 
of the arena ? — in presence of sneering Englishmen and 



ROME. 97 

curious Americans ? in the face of a regular stream of 
passers by, who make the Coliseum a thoroughfare in 
passing from the Lateran to the Capitol ? Let us see. 
Yes ; they walk, with soldierly decision and step, 
straight to the cross. Little do they heed whether there 
be one, or many, or none at all, regarding them. They 
knelt for two or three minutes, with the appearance of 
great devotion, then ascended the steps, knelt again, 
reverently kissed the cross, and proceeded on their way. 
It was now our turn. "When we had offered our prayers 
at the foot of the cross, and kissed it, we continued our 
walk and our observations. 

I have already remarked that this arena, on which we 
are now walking, has been saturated with the blood of 
the martyrs. To commemorate these bloody executions, 
and to consecrate these pagan ruins, Pope Benedict XIV. 
caused fourteen chapels to be built around the interior 
wall, in which are erected the " stations of the cross," 
representing the principal events of the passion of our 
Lord. While we stood contemplating, the distant sound 
of a solemn chant performed by men fell upon our ears. 
It approached nearer and nearer, till through an archway 
opposite to the one by which we entered there appeared 
a procession of some fifty men, two by two, followed by 
an indiscriminate crowd of women and children. They 
who led the procession were dressed in long robes, which 
entirely covered their heads and faces, small holes being 
made for seeing and breathing. The rest of the men 
were friars of the order of St. Francis, with bare heads 
and feet, brown robes, and ropes around the waist. 
Having finished the hymn of the Passion, which they 
were singing, they commenced making the " stations " — 
a devotion familiar to all pious Catholics. The men in 
9 



98 DIALOGUE. 

the long robes are lay persons of all ranks, frequently 
of great wealth and distinction, who belong to a congre- 
gation or society, and who, as often as their affairs will 
permit, take part in this ceremony, which takes place 
every Friday, at the hour when our Saviour expired. 
They wear this odd-looking dress in order that they 
may not be recognized and make a public show of their 
devotion, and also that every brother, rich or poor, may 
appear to be upon an equality, and all distinctions be 
levelled. 

During these solemn services, and while the prescribed 
prayers were recited at the different stations, a party of 
English approached us, and presuming, I suppose, from 
our clerical garb, that we were Italians, commenced the 
following conversation : — • 

Lady. How queer ! 

Gent. Queer ! It's perfectly absurd. 

Girl. Why, papa, I think it's beautiful. 

Gent. My dear, you don't understand any thing 
about it. 

Girl. I don't understand what they say, papa ; but I 
love dearly to hear them sing. Then they seem to be 
80 pious ! 

Lady. Hush, child. What do you know about their 
piety ? 

Boy. O papa, what is that man holding up in his 
hand ? 

Gent. That is a crucifix. 

Boy. See ! all the people kneel down. 

Lady. I presume they are worshipping it. Roman- 
ists, you know, worship images. 

Boy. Mamma, what makes them wear such funny 
dresses ? 



ROME. 99 

Lady. It is because tliey are priests, my dear. 

Boy. Do all the priests dress so ? 

Lady. No, not all the priests. I suppose that these 
men are poor, and very ignorant. Poor creatures ! If 
they had been educated, like you, they might have 
been very good people. 

Girl. Papa, you have not yet told us what all this 
ceremony means. 

Gent. Well, I will tell you now. The Catholics 
believe that a great many Christians were put to death 
here by the Koman emperors. Now, the priests come 
here to offer prayers for the eternal bliss of these martyrs. 

Lady. How absurd ! 

Thoroughly disgusted, we moved on. The last was 
the only sensible remark that the lady made. Who 
would believe, if their ears did not hear it, and their 
eyes did not see it every day, that the best bred and 
most intelligent Protestants could be so stupidly ignorant 
of Catholic faith and Catholic practice ? Absurd, indeed, 
it would be to pray for the bliss of martyrs, when 
Catholic faith teaches that such have already received the 
crown of victory, and the fruition of heavenly glory ! 

Had it not been for the presence of those idle, gaping, 
and benighted English people, our visit to the Coliseum 
would have been one of unruffled happiness and un- 
speakable edification. 

THE POPE. 

Through the kind influence of the Bishop of Boston, 
I obtained two private audiences with his holiness, and 
also assisted at his private Mass, on Holy Thursday, and 
received communion at his hands. Pius IX. is a much 



100 PIUS NINTH. 

handsomer man than I expected to see. The Romans 
are very proud of him. Come e hello I they would ex- 
claim as he passed them in public processions. He has 
large and sparkling eyes, and a countenance 'which in 
repose is the concentration of piety and benevolence i 
but when he speaks, it expands and assumes a countless 
variety of expressions, insomuch that the most skilful 
artists find it impossible to obtain a likeness of him that 
will be pronounced a good one by those who have seen 
him when conversing. He reminded me very much 
of the open, benignant, intellectual, and beaming coun- 
tenance of the late Bishop Fenwick. "When I explained 
to him the object and design of the " House of the An- 
gel Guardian," established in Boston, for homeless or 
unmanageable boys, he appeared highly pleased, and 
bade me go on courageously with the work, to which 
he was pleased to give his apostolic benediction, accord- 
ing, at the same time, both plenary and partial indul- 
gences to the benefactors of the institution. These 
audiences were the more precious to me, in that they 
were not public. They were in the Pope's private cabi- 
net, and he was sitting at his table, with papers and 
writing materials before him. He scarcely permitted 
me to make the usual genuflections, or to kiss his foot, 
for he began talking and questioning ,me as soon as I 
entered the apartment, sitting with his face towards me 
and his side to the table. Three times, however, I 
kneeled, and the third time I was at his feet, which I 
kissed with devout fervor, and with sincere gratitude to 
the Almighty God, who had vouchsafed to me the un- 
speakable privilege of approaching so near to the person 
of his vicegerent upon earth. 



ROME. 10 



THE CATACOMBS. 



We descended into the catacombs of St. Agnes, ac- 
companied and guided by the venerable Father Machi, 
who has for so many years made subterranean Rome the 
subject of his most diligent and persevering study. The 
entrance is near the Church of St. Agnes, about a mile 
without the walls. We found oui'selves at once in a 
labyrinth of galleries, or timnels, perforating the earth 
in all directions, illuminated only by the torches which 
we held in our hands. These tunnels were from three 
to four feet wide, and from six to seven in height. On 
either side are the receptacles for the dead, one above the 
other, four ranges high. They are of different sizes, 
varying with the size of the bodies deposited therein. 
Some were open, others closed with stone. In many of 
the open ones were skulls and bones. Who can describe 
our thoughts and sensations as we walked, one behind 
the other, each with a lighted torch, through the silent 
city of the dead, constructed beneath the noisy city of 
the living ? We paused for a moment, in awe, to listen 
to the rumbling of wheels over our heads. Its sound 
was like the whirr of distant spindles. 

Who were they who once occupied these dark, funereal 
mazes — these dormitories of the dead ? They were 
inhabitants of pagan Rome, who, because they dared to 
renounce the worship of false gods and idols, and to lis- 
ten to the sermons of Peter and Paul, and their asso- 
ciates and successors, were hunted, like wild beasts, 
from their homes, and compelled to take refuge in these 
sepulchres and earth quarries ; they were Christians, 
willing and glad to abandon all for Christ ; they were 
9* 



102 CATACOMBS. 

our brothers and sisters, professing the same faith, as- 
sisting at the same mysteries, partakers of the same sac- 
raments ; they were saintly bishops, confessors of the 
faith, and holy virgins ; they encouraged each other by 
word and example ; they suffered and prayed together, 
and conversed about their families and friends, whom 
they had left in the noisy Babel above ; they cheered one 
another with the promise of brighter days ; they looked 
and longed for the crown reserved for them in heaven ; 
and here, on our right and on our left, as we threaded 
these consecrated mazes, were consigned their bodies, as 
one after another they were summoned to their great re- 
ward ; and here lie still their boneSj many of them in 
the very position in which they were laid sixteen, seven- 
teen, and eighteen hundred years ago. These bones we 
saw with our eyes, and reverently handled with our 
hands. 

Proceeding on, we came to chapels in which were 
the very altars at which the priests had celebrated Mass, 
the chair, or throne, of the bishop, and on each side of 
it the seats for the choir. There were smaller apart- 
ments, with a single seat at one end, and long benches 
on either side. Here it is supposed that the catechu- 
mens and children received instruction. There were 
also the confessionals, in which the sinner threw off the 
weight that rested on his conscience, and became recon- 
ciled to God. In many of these apartments the walls 
and roofs were covered with frescos, most of them alle- 
gorical or symbolical. Father Machi directed our atten- 
tion to those most worthy of notice. Of frequent occur- 
rence was the picture of the good shepherd, bearing a 
lamb on his shoulders, emblematical of the assiduous 
charity with which Jesus Christ seeks the lost ones of 



ROME. 103 

his flock, and bears tliem in safety to the fold. The man 
sick of the palsy is represented carrying his bed, to show 
that in the church was still the power to forgive sins. 
"' Which is easier to say. Thy sins are forgiven thee ; or 
to say, E.ise up, and walk ? But that you may know 
that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, 
then saith he to the sick of the palsy, E,ise up, take thy 
bed, and go into thy house. And he rose up and went 
to his house." (Matt. ix. 5—7.) There were also the 
wise virgins, five in number ; but not the foolish ones, 
for they were excluded from the marriage feast, not 
having taken the precaution to keep their laiups of 
faith trimmed and burnhig, till the moment that they 
were summoned to go forth and meet the bridegroom. 
There were Adam and Eve, emblematical of the second 
Adam, and of the Blessed Virgin, the second Eve. By 
the first Adam all died, by the second Adam all are 
made alive. The first Eve presented man with the fatal 
fruit that caused his disobedience and ruin ; the second 
Eve presented him with an infant Son, through whose 
merits and intercession he was to be regenerated and 
reconciled to God. There were doves, with olive 
branches in their mouths, representing heralds of peace 
and reconciliation, and doves without olive branches, 
emblems of the souls of Christians, which are temples of 
the Holy Ghost. There were flowers in bud and bloom, 
to show the budding and blossoming of faith in the 
souls of men ; and various fruits, to display the beauty 
and excellence of their works of love. There was Daniel 
in the den of lions, portraying the Christian, safe and 
unconcerned amid the dangers and temptations of the 
world ; and the three children in the fiery fui-nace, un- 
hurt by the edicts of bigotry, and unscathed by the 



104 MONUMENTS OF THE FAITH. 

flames of persecution. Besides all these, and many 
more which I have not space to enumerate, there stands 
forth prominent over the altar — which is the tomb of a 
martyr, and in those days always was — the painting, in. 
fresco, of the Blessed Virgin, with outstretched arms, in 
the attitude of prayer, invoking blessings on mankind ; 
showing how, in these early ages of faith. Christians 
confided in, loved, and venerated the blessed mother of 
our Lord. 

It is to me amazing, that any person, who loves truth 
and seeks it, can visit these catacombs — can visit Eome 
— without acknowledging the divine origin and au- 
thority of that church which is its greatest ornament 
and its crowning glory. The authentic traditions and 
monumental treasures of all the other cities in Europe 
are few and meagre, compared with what Rome alone 
contains within her walls and in her catacombs. Not a 
link is wanting in the golden chain that unites the apos- 
tolic age with ours. The altar at which St. Peter him- 
self celebrated the holy mysteries is still preserved, en- 
shrined in the high altar of St. John Lateran ; also the 
chair of St. Peter, and his very ashes, the glory of the 
Vatican. The Mamertine prison, where St. Peter was 
incarcerated, remains unmutilatedi The chains with 
which he was bound are in the church of St. Peter ad 
Vincula. Within the Latin gate " the beloved apostle " 
was thrown into a caldron of boiling . oil. The prison 
where St. Paul was confined ; the place where he was 
beheaded ; altars, tombs, and chapels erected over the 
bodies of saints and martyrs, of every age, in every part 
of the city ; the Church of St. Sebastian, covering the 
spot where the bodies of SS. Peter and Paul were first 
interred ; the altar at which St. Stephen, pope and mar- y 



ROME. 105 

tyr, was celebrating Mass when he was discovered by the 
persecutors^ and by them barbarously murdered, as soon 
as it was terminated ; the very rooms once occupied by 
St. Philip jSTeri, St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Luigi Gonzaga, 
and St. Stanislaus Kotska ; the Basilicas, erected by 
Constantine ; countless shrines, with their precious and 
certain relics ; catacombs and crypts, with their paintings 
and inscriptions, — all these are so many existing and 
palpable proofs that the faith of the Romans has come 
down to them unsullied and unchanged. And all these 
should convince the unbeliever that there is more, in- 
finitely more, in the religion of the Romans, than mere 
form, and ceremony, and festal pomp. But, alas ! they 
will not believe. Atheism, Deism, Mahometanism, even 
the contradictions and absurdities of Protestantism, are 
tolerated ; but if an angel from heaven should attest to 
the truth of the Catholic faith, they would reject it. 

INSTITUTIONS OF CHARITY. 

It would require an entire volume, and a large one 
too, to give even a brief sketch of each of the benevo- 
lent institutions of Home. There is not a class of men, 
nor a condition of the human race, nor an infirmity to 
which men are subject, that has not its appropriate hos- 
pital, or asylum, and its experienced and devoted guar- 
dians and nurses. The generous, world-wide, and intel- 
ligent philanthropy which brought them into existence 
is only equalled by the unobtrusive piety, and patient, 
persevering labors of those generous souls who, not for 
any earthly praise or reward, but simply for the love 
of God, consecrate their best days, and all their days, to 
the faithful execution of the work. It was Rome, the 



106 INSTITUTION SAN MICHELE. 

centre of that holy religion that breathes nought but 
charity, that gave to Europe the first and most brilliant 
examples of such institutions. Before the nations of 
Europe had emerged from darkness and barbarism. 
Home had established asylums for the poor and the in- 
firm, for widows and the fatherless, for orphans and found- 
lings, and thereby demonstrated that civilization is but 
the daughter of Christianity. It was a Pope who, in 
the twelfth century, opened the first asylum for invalids ; 
it was a Pope who established the " Ospizio Apostolico," 
the first institution in which were taught arts and trades ; 
they were the Popes of Rome who, by their example, 
taught that the best mode of giving. alms to the healthy 
poor was to provide them with labor. And yet, in this age 
of philanthropy, when all men are speaking and writing 
of " model institutions," of houses of refuge, reform 
schools, &c., scarce a word is said of the institutions of 
Rome, the mother and mistress of every charity that has 
ever aroused the sympathies and excited the admiration 
of man. Therefore, as an act of justice to that city, the 
home of the pilgrims, the refuge of the afflicted, and the 
parent of all, we propose, as far as we can, and as briefly 
as possible, to describe some of the most important of her 
institutions of public charity ; and I shall begin with one 
of the noblest of them all — 

SAN MICHELE. 

I visited this establishment in company with the Bishop 
of Boston, Hon. Benjamin Seaver, late Mayor of Boston ; 
Ex-Alderman Rich, Edward Brooks, Esq., and several 
other Bostonians. We were presented to the resident 
cardinal, Tosti, by Monsignor Bedini. The cardinal is 



ROME. 



107 



a very old man, but possessed of all the energy and ac- 
tivity of his early manhood. He received us most 
kindly, and gave us free access to every part of the huge 
establishment. 

The history of San Michele is this : It was originally 
formed by uniting three institutions already existing. 
The first was founded by Sixtus V., for the reception 
of the poor of both sexes.' It was, properly speak- 
ing, an almshouse, and was intended to suppress pauper- 
ism and mendicity in the city. The second was founded 
in 1582, by Leonardo Ceruso, for orphan and deserted 
boys. The third was founded by Tommaso Odescalchi, 
for yet another class of boys, viz., those who had run 
away from their parents or guardians, and had no one 
to guard their morals and provide for their education. 
These three institutions were, by Innocent XII., united 
into one, and placed in the building erected by Odes- 
calchi on the Ripa Grande. 

In 1703 Clement XL, with the aid of Carlo Fontana, 
erected another building for the correction and reforma- 
tion of young boys, who had been convicted of crimes. 
fVe imagine that in this country was first conceived the 
idea of reforming juvenile delinquents, and of establish- 
ing institutions for that object. Tire scheme of juvenile 
reformation was in full and successful operation a whole 
century before it was even thought of in this country. 
It was devised in Rome, where almost every measure of 
philanthrop)'' had its origin. The building just spoken 
of is admirably constructed for the purpose, and doubt- 
less suggested the first idea of modern improvements 
ill prison architecture in America, Switzerland, and Eng- 
land. The dormitory consists of a vast rectangular 
hall, on the two longer sides of which it has a triple tier 



108 INSTITUTION SAN MICHELE. 

of cellsj or rather small and neat apartments, one above 
the other. These are approached by means of an open 
gallery ; two large windows at each end furnish an abun- 
dance of light and air. At one end of the hall stands an 
altar, and the inmates assist every morning at the holy 
sacrifice of the Mass. For this purpose each inmate has 
only to leave his cell and kneel at the rail of the gal- 
lery. The cells are sixty-four in number, and all can 
be overlooked by a glance of the eye of the superin- 
tendent. 

In 1735 Clement XII. constructed between these two 
buildings a female penitents' refuge. To Rome, there- 
fore, are we also indebted for the first of these institutions 
for the protection and reformation of a most despised 
and unfortunate class. 

In 1790 Pius VI. added an establishment for young 
girls who had no means of earning a livelihood. Here 
they acquired habits of industry, and were instructed 
in branches adapted to their strength, age, and ability. 
Thousands have, in consequence, been rescued not only 
from poverty and ignorance, but also from vice and 
prostitution. This building, which is entirely separated 
from the others, has a pretty court yard attached to it, 
in the centre of which constantly plays a fountain of 
water. There is a small church attached, expressly for 
the girls, and there is also a larger one for the old peo- 
ple and boys. The whole establishment is more than 
half a mile in circumference. 

San Michele is destined, therefore, for four classes of 
persons, viz., aged men, aged women, youths, and maid- 
ens. The men, to be entitled to admission, must 
either be Romans or must have resided five years in 
Rome, and must also be free from every incurable or 



ROME. 109 

contagious disease. They a]-e divided into two classes — 
the able-bodied and infirm. The latter occupy the lower 
story, that they may go to chapel and to the refectory 
without ascending or descending a flight of stairs. The 
charge of this community is intrusted to an ecclesiastic, 
with the title of prior, and it numbers at present one 
hundred and thirty individuals, one hundred of whom 
are gratuitously maintained, and thirty pay a trifling 
board. They who are strong enough are permitted to 
go abroad at certain fixed hours, and the others have a 
covered corridor to walk about in. Their daily allow- 
ance of food consists of eighteen ounces of wheat bread, 
four ounces of meat, (to which, twice a week, are added 
herbs, vegetables, &c.,) a dish of soup, and a pint of 
wine. A smaller portion of meat and salad is allowed 
for supper. On festival days they have a greater variety 
of dishes, and more luxuries. 

The aged women are about one hundred and fifty in 
number. In this community there are, besides, about 
thirty younger women, who do the washing, ironing, 
cooking, &c., for the whole establishment. It is presided 
over by a prioress, selected from among the inmates, and 
she is changed every three years. The prior of the 
men's department has also a general supervision over the 
women. The diet is the same as above described. 

The department of young women and girls, called the 
Conservatory of St. John, from the fact of its having 
existed for more than a century in the Lateran palace, 
numbers two hundred and seventy inmates, nearly all 
gratuitously maintained. The great aim of this insti- 
tution is to instruct the girls in religion, to save them 
from seduction, and teach them the duties and arts 
proper to their sex. By night they are distributed into 
10 



110 INSTITUTION SAN SnCHELE. 

nine large dormitories, presided over by some of the 
older ones. They are superintended by a prioress and 
sub-prioress, selected once every three years from among 
themselves. They have a school, where they are taught 
reading, writing, arithmetic, and the arts suitable to their 
state ; they are also instructed in singing. They do 
their own washing and cooking ; they make the epau- 
lets and other ornaments worn by the soldiers, and for 
their encouragement they receive half the profits. They 
never leave the institution, except to become wives or 
nuns. The institution gives a dowry of one hundred 
dollars to each one who marries^ and two hundred dol- 
lars each to those who become nuns. We saw among 
them some advanced in life. The most capable and pru- 
dent of these are made teachers and guardians of the 
younger ones. 

But the department of San Michele which most in- 
terested me was that of the boys. Their number at 
present is about two hundred and twenty. They are 
divided into six cameratas, or classes, according to their 
ages. Each camerata has its patron saint, and takes his 
name. There is St. Michael, St. Francis, St. Philip, 
SS. Peter and Paul, St. Charles, and the Holy Innocents. 
Each camerata has a prefect, who is an ecclesiastic, and 
two sub-prefects, called decurions, which latter are se- 
lected from the more mature and virtuous of the boys 
themselves. The conditions of admission are, that they 
be orphans, of the E.oman States, and not under eleven 
years of age. The revenues will permit but a limited 
number to be taken gratuitously. At present there are 
one hundred and sixty gratuitous pupils, and about sixty 
who pay four dollars and a half a month, which is all 
that is demanded. The diet of the children is the same 



BOME. Ill 

as that of the adults. Their beds consist of a straw 
mattress, pillows stuffed with wool, a pair of sheets, two 
blankets, and an iron bedstead. On holidays they sally 
forth for recreation by cameratas, walking two and two, 
each camerata guided by its prefect, and repair to a fine 
vineyard without the walls, where they freely amuse 
themselves. 

These boys are carefully instructed by the very best 
of masters. They are taught mechanical trades and the 
fine arts. We visited their workshops. The boys were 
busily occupied in statuary. Gobelin and other tapestry, 
carving, engraving in wood and copper, cutting cameos 
and medallions, moulding, drawing, painting, draughting, 
silk and woollen weaving, book binding, harness making, 
brass finishing, hat making, marble working, blacksmith- 
ing, cabinet making, locksmithing, carriage building, 
knapsack making, alto rilievo, architecture, tailoring, 
shoe making, carpentering, stone cutting, working of 
metals, and printing books. 

From these shops have gone forth some of the most 
distinguished artists in Europe. The boys remain till 
they have attained the age of twenty-one, when they are 
presented with a sum of money sufficient to start them 
in the world. Thus encouraged, they set sail bravely 
on the sea of life. But while so much attention is be- 
stowed on mechanics and the fine arts, literary instruc- 
tion is by no means neglected. According to their 
tastes, ages, and abilities, they are taught Christian doc- 
trine, reading, writing, arithmetic, anatomy, mythology, 
sacred and profane history, and music, vocal and instru- 
mental. 

In a word, no pains, no expense, are spared to inflame 
the piety, to augment the virtue, to direct the energies. 



112 HOSPITAL SAN SPIRITO. 

and to expand tlie intellect of these interesting youths, 
and to fit tliem for future usefulness and enjoyment. 
This department of San Michele is, in truth, a complete 
polytechnic school — a conservatory of trades, of arts, 
of literature, and of religion, opened by the wisdom and 
paternal zeal of the sovereign pontiffs of Rome a whole 
century before the example was imitated by other nations 
of Europe. 

ARCH HOSPITAL OF SAN SPIRITO, IN SASSIA. 

This establishment is situated between the Tiber and 
the Vatican. The name " Sassia " comes from the word 
Saxon ; for in 717 there was a hospital erected here for 
the Saxons who accompanied Charlemagne to Italy. 
The spot was selected and the hospital erected by Inno- 
cent III., who ascended the pontifical throne in 1198. 
When the work was completed, the pontiff placed it 
under the charge of an order of " Hospitallers," called 
" of the Holy Spirit ; " hence the hospital received the 
name of " Sa7i Spirito." In order to stimulate the laity 
to contribute to the support of the institution, Innocent 
III. founded a " confraternity," the first established in 
Home, subsequently revived by Eugene IV., and at the 
present day in a most flourishing condition. 

In 1471, the old building having fallen considerably 
into decay, Sixtus IV. caused it to be rebuilt after a 
splendid model of architecture. The principal ward of 
the new building, called the Sistine ward, measures five 
hundred and sixty-four palms in length, fifty-five in 
width, and sixty in height, capable of containing a triple 
row of beds. This ward is ornamented with a beauti- 



ROME. 113 

ful cupola and an altar. Another ward was subsequently 
erected, one hundred and forty-eight palms in breadth, 
and forty-nine in height. It runs at right angles with 
the first ward, and will hold sixty-four beds. It is, at 
present, devoted to surgical cases, and is called "The 
Infirmary of the Wounded ; " for experience has long 
since taught the propriety of separating such cases from 
the sick, in order to effect more speedily their cure. 
There is also a special apartment assigned to those 
afflicted with scurvy, another to chronic diseases, another 
to consumptive patients, another to lunatics, and so on. 
During the last century, Benedict XIV. added another 
ward, called the " new wing," four hundred and four- 
teen palms long, and of the same height and width as 
the Sistina. This was ornamented with rich frescoes, 
representing the miraculous cures wrought by our Saviour. 
Benedict XIV. also enriched the institution with a fine 
anatomical museum, to which Pius VI. added many 
curious things, among which is an exquisite representa- 
tion or model of the arterial, nervous, and venous sys- 
tem, executed with incredible patience by the celebrated 
Joseph riagani. 

Pius VI., under whose gentle reign the population of 
Home swelled to the number of one hundred and sixty- 
five thousand inhabitants, added a new and beautiful 
building, separated from the old one by the public street. 
This building has two stories, the one called S. Maria, 
five hundred and twenty-seven palms in length, twenty 
in height, and seventy-four in width ; the other, called 
S. Carlo, five hundred and ninety-two palms in length, 
forty -five in height, and seventy -five in width. In each 
of these wards are four rows of beds. Eeducing to a 
10* 



114 HOSPITAL SAN SPIEITO. 

tabular form the number of patients that can be accom- 
modated in all the wards of San Spirito, we have, — 

In the Sistine ward, 326 beds. 

** new wing, 287 " 

« S. Carlo and S. Maria, ... 840 " 

" surgical ward, Q4: " 

" that of the scurvy, .... 6 " 

'' chronic maladies, 25 " 

« S. Giacinto, 13 " 

« S. Girolomo, 12 « 

" S. Philip, ........ 22 « 

" of lunatics, ..,.,,. 3 " 

« Clinical HaU, ...... 18 " 

Total, 1616 « 

Let those who attempt to blacken the Catholic church, 
and would fain make men believe that she is altogether 
selfish, and seeks only her own enrichraent — is cold 
and relentless, and steeled against the sorrows and suf- 
ferings of humanity — let them look at the above table, 
and ponder it well. Here is a single hospital, only one 
among a multitude, and in this one hospital there are 
sixteen hundred and sixteen free beds provided for the 
sick and afflicted. Is there one like it on the whole con- 
tinent of America ? 

Pius VII. added to the hospital a surgical apartment, 
light, well ventilated, commodious, and beautiful, fur- 
nished with marble tables, abundantly supplied with 
water — in a word, superior to any thing of the kind in 
Euxope. 

Sau Spirito is designed principally for the reception 



ROME. 115 

of persons -witli. fevers. If a man be attacked with fever, 
no matjter of what age, country, condition, or religion, 
he stands in need of no recommendation or ticket of 
admission, but has only to present himself at the door, 
and he is immediately received. A person called the 
'^ scribe " minutes down the name, age, and country of 
the patient ; also, the day, month, and year of his ad- 
mission, and the number of the bed assigned to him. 
His effects are made up into a bundle, and carefully 
put aside ; if he recovers they are returned to him ; if 
he dies they are sold for the benefit of the institution. 
The bedsteads are of iron, as in all similar establish- 
ments in Rome. They are the most economical, the 
cleanest, and the best. Each one is provided with a 
straw bed, a mattress, bolster, pillow, sheets, a counter- 
pane for summer, and two or three blankets for winter. 
Between the beds there is a marble table fastened to the 
wall. Over each bed, hanging upon the wall, is a tablet 
on which is indicated the condition and mode of treating 
the patient, the diet allowed him, if he have received, or 
ought to receive, the last rites of the church, the name, 
age, &c., of the patient. The diet consists chiefly of 
meat, soup, broth, bread, eggs, boiled succory, wine, and 
water ; the kind and quantity for each patient is indi- 
cated on the tablet. 

In winter each ward is heated by means of pipes admira- 
bly constructed, and leading from a stove in the middle. 
On the stove is a vessel containing a pectoral decoction 
of barley water and liquorice root, which is given to the 
sick whenever they require it. The hospital is swept 
out four times a day, and the floor washed once a month. 
The linen is changed whenever it is necessary. In the 
spring, when the number of patients is small, the walls 



118 HOSPITAL SAN SPIRITO. 

are all white washed^ and the bedsteads undergo a thorough 
inspection and cleaning. That the air may be kept as 
pure as possible, vent-holes are opened into the attics, 
and chemical means are also employed to prevent infec- 
tion. To carry off all sorts of filth, a stone duct is 
placed under the building, through its entire length, on 
an inclined plane, through which a large body of water 
is continually flowing into the Tiber. 

If the patient recovers, he is taken to the " Hospital 
of Convalescents ; " if he dies, he is left for two hours 
on his bed, and is then taken to the " Dead Room," 
where the body remains twenty-four hours. Every 
evening at the Ave Maria a confraternity of lay persons 
from different parts of the city assemble at the gates of 
the hospital, and with lighted torches accompany the 
remains of the dead to the cemetery on Janiculum, sol- 
emnly and slowly chanting in tmison the requiem of the 
departed. No cold, nor storm, nor tempest ever deters 
them from the performance of this pious duty. I was 
myself several times witness to their zeal and piety, and 
was unspeakably edified by the solemnity of the scene. 
When there are no bodies to be buried, which not un- 
frequently happens, they go, notwithstanding, in the 
same processional order to the cemetery, reciting prayers 
for the dead. 

The establishment is directed by a prelate of high im- 
portance, called Comendatore, or grand master of San 
Spirito, nominated by the pope. He administers the reve- 
nues and superintends the discipline. Under him are 
canons of the order of San Spirito, to whom are intrusted 
different offices and departments in the administration. 
Some are priests, and some are laics. The former serve 
the parish church. The chaplains and confessors of the 



ROME. 117 

hospital, twelve in number, celebrate Mass every morn- 
ing in the different wards, administer the sacraments, 
and assist the dying. Many pious persons, both priests 
and laymen, citizens and nobles, are daily seen travers- 
ing the wards on en-ands of love and mercy ; reciting 
litanies, rosaries, and other prayers with the sick ; ad- 
justing their beds, combing their hair, cutting their nails, 
shaving their beards, speaking words of encouragement, 
consolation, and instruction, and in a thousand other 
ways administering to their wants. 

Four physicians and two surgeons visit the hospital 
twice every day. Each physician has an ^^ assistant," 
and each surgeon a " substitute," who reside at the in- 
stitution. Tiiere are also others, supernumeraries, who 
are called upon when the number of the sick augments, 
so that no physician shall have more than seventy or 
eighty patients at a time. 

By reference to statistical tables, it is ascertained that 
the annual expense of supporting this hospital amounts 
to the sum of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars ; 
that the average number of patients received annually, 
during ten years, from 1823 to 1833, was twelve thou- 
sand ; that the mean number of sick during that time was 
three hundred daily ; and that about eight hundred and 
fifty died annually ; which gives little more than seven 
per cent, of deaths — a fact which does infinite credit 
both to the hospital of San Spirito, and to the medical 
skill of the Romans.* 

While on the subject of San Spirito, I will relate a 
Btory of one of its inmates, whom I saw and conversed 
with on the occasion of a former visit to Rome. He was 

* Morichini, Istituti di Koma. 



118 A PILGEIM. 

an old Irish priest, and a truly venerable and holy man. 
I was introduced to him by the vice-rector of the Eng- 
lish College, who subsequently related to me his history 
as he had received it from his own lips. I wrote it down 
at the time, and have preserved it. It is too interesting 
to be lost. 

When he was a little boy, his father being a Prot- 
estant, and his mother a Catholic, he contrived, with 
the connivance of his mother, to have secret interviews 
with the priest of his native town. Having been suf- 
ficiently instructed, he made his first communion, and 
lived a pious life, his father being entirely ignorant of 
the whole matter. One day, while on his knees, praying 
for the conversion of his parent, he made a vow that if 
God would be pleased to convert him, he would make a 
pilgrimage on foot to Jerusalem. A few days after, his 
father was observed to be thoughtful and agitated, and 
soon declared himself convinced of the truth of the 
Catholic religion, and was received into the bosom of the 
church. He then learned, with surprise and delight, 
the history of his son's conversion, and consented that 
he should study for the priesthood. The bishop decided 
that he should make his studies at Salamanca. But he 
informed the bishop of his vow, and begged that he 
might be allowed to go first to Jerusalem. But no ; 
Salamanca was the Jerusalem for him. So, as obedience 
is the first virtue of a good man, to Salamanca he went, 
and finished his studies, and was ordained. Several 
times during his subsequent ministry he craved permis- 
sion to fulfil his vow, but was always denied ; till on 
one occasion, during a severe malady, he obtained a 
promise from the bislrop, the late Dr. Doyle, of happy 
memory, that, if he recovered, he might make the long- 
desired pilgrimage. 



ROME. 119 

No sooner had lie recovered tlian he disposed of all 
his little property, distributing in alms all the money he 
received for it, and without a penny in his pocket, but 
with the pilgrim's staff in his hand, he commenced his 
journey to the holy land, begging all the way. After 
indescribable difficulties and hardships he reached Na- 
ples, and there endeavored to find a vessel that would 
take him to Palestine for nothing ; but there was none 
to be found. However, on being informed that there 
would be a better chance for him in Venice, one fine 
morning he set out to walk thither, a distance of only 
three hundred miles and upwards. Here again he was 
baffled, and then walked to Leghorn, where, after in- 
credible exertions, he met a kind-hearted merchant, who 
gave him a free passage to the holy land in one of his 
ships. Thither he went joyfully, and made his pilgrim- 
age to Jerusalem, and then returned to Ireland, penni- 
less as he had left it. When he found himself getting 
sick and infirm, he longed for some obscure and pious 
retreat wherein to spend the residue of his days in 
prayer, and so he returned to E.ome, and after having 
suffered much from penury and sickness, he was placed 
in the hospital of San Spirito, where I saw him. He 
conversed with great cheerfulness, and appeared perfectly 
happy. He had found the very home and retreat that 
he had so ardently longed for. 

The institutions which I have attempted to describe 
will give the reader some idea of how things of this 
sort are done in Rome. Every thing is on a grand 
scale, both in a moral and an architectural point of view. 
None of your ill-ventilated and contracted wards — 
your dark corridors, low ceilings, and crowded dormi- 
tories — none of your penny wise and pound foolish 



120 CONVULSIONS OF 1848. 

calculations for the Romans. Why, the single estab- 
lishment of San Michele, designed for seven hundred 
persons, covers more ground than all the city institutions 
of Boston put together. The circuit of the building is 
more than half a mile. The hospital of San Spirito 
covers about the same quantity of ground. ' The annual 
expenses of San Michele amount to thirty-five thousand 
dollars, and the receipts to thirty-four thousand five 
hundred dollars. Not bad managers, these priests and 
popes, nor timid ones. 

THE POLITICAL AND SOCIAL ASPECT OF ROME. 

One who has lived in Rome during the pontificate of 
Gregory XVI. now sees at every step sad traces of the 
convulsions of 1848. They have left a scorch as of a 
red-hot iron dragged along. The inhabitants are just 
beginning to appear again like themselves. They are 
gradually resuming their old ways and occupations. 
The Romans are a religious people, naturally averse to 
war and to danger. When the hordes of foreign assas- 
sins began, in 1848, their infernal work of treason and 
of butchery, the Romans for the most part retired to 
their homes and remained quiet. Had but a hundredth 
part, instead, have taken arms, and faced the murderers, 
and shot at them, they would have fled in dismay to 
their dens and swamps, and in half an hour Rome would 
have been as tranquil and secure as the city of Boston. 
But they did nothing of the kind. They remained fas- 
tened in their houses. The enemy had a clean sweep 
They cruelly and coldly massacred men, women, chil- 
dren, and priests — all who ventured into the streets, or 
who dared to lift up a voice of remonstrance. However, 



ROME. 121 

what the Romans ought to have done, but did not do, 
the French troops sent by Napoleon did for them. And 
dearly have the Romans paid for their want of courage 
and patriotism. They live now in continual dread. The 
assassins have proved them, and despise them. Nothing 
but the presefice of the French troops insures the safety 
of the city and the security of its inhabitants. The Ro- 
mans, true to the pope, are numerous enough, and strong 
and willing enough, to protect the Holy See against all 
invaders ; but, alas ! they lack the courage. But a revo- 
lution or rebellion like that of '48 can never again take 
place. The circumstances which rendered that compar- 
atively easy can never again recur. In '48 the pope 
took the lead by granting many concessions, insomuch 
that the demagogues and agitators could seduce the peo- 
ple by persuading them that the pope was on their side. 
This to a religious people was a strong argument why 
they should not oppose the so-called patriots. Now, 
this can never happen again. For, by bitter experience, 
by the blood so cruelly shed, by the falsehood and hy- 
pocrisy of Mazzini and his accomplices, by the awful 
and sudden death of Rossi, and by his own forced ban- 
ishment to Gaeta, the pope is convinced of the utter 
inutility of conceding aught to the demands of a mob. 
The papal policy has ever been kind, conservative, and 
parental, and the present and all future popes will ad- 
here to it. 

The year 1854, the Romans say, was the first really 
prosperous year for Rome since 1848. A new element 
is beginning to be known and felt in Rome. It is the 
American element. It was remarked during Holy Week 
that there were more visitors from the United States than 
from any other country in the world. Our countrymen, 
11 



122 AMERICANS IN HOME. 

I am proud to say, make a very favorable impression 
here on all classes. They are liberal but not extrava- 
gant, reserved but not haughty, and bold but not over- 
bearing. They make large purchases of paintings, statu- 
ary, and fancy ornaments, which, carried to the States, 
will, in a few years, have the effect to elevate and refine 
the tastes of our countrymen. A few years ago a marble 
statue was a novel and very rare sight either in our pub- 
lic buildings or our private mansions. Plaster imitations 
were all we had to exhibit or to look at. "Well do I 
remember, when I was a student in Harvard College, 
with what delight I used to gaze upon that wonder of 
New England, the E,oom of Statues in the Boston Athe- 
nseum. But those statues, after all, were only plaster 
images. It is to be hoped that, before many years, 
through the zeal and good taste of our travelling fellow- 
citizens, they will be all replaced by their marble proto- 
types. But the best feature of American character in 
Rome is the conduct of Americans in the churches and 
dtu'ing the public ceremonies. Englishmen will talk 
loud, and find fault with every thing, and sneer almost 
in the face of the ministers of the altar. Americans, on 
the contrary, may be known by their subdued, quiet, and 
respectful behavior. The ceremonies and forms, no 
doubt, appear to them quite as absurd and unmeaning as 
they do to their brethren over the seas, but they have 
the good practical common sense and natural politeness 
not to allow their sentiments to manifest themselves in a 
way to shock the feelings of those who attach to them 
a religious importance. These good people, say they, 
sincerely believe in all this, and what can I possibly hope 
to gain by insulting them ? It suits them, and they like 
it. Why should I wish to destroy their tastes, and leave 



ROME. 123 

them without any ? And if I did wish to do it, can I 
succeed by making myself supremely ridiculous ? The 
consequence is, that wherever you see the Americans — 
whether in the Sistine Chapel, in St. Peter's, or in the 
smaller churches — - whether at the daily service or at 
the grand ceremonies — they always observe a respectful 
silence, which sometimes appears even like devotion, and 
pay the closest attention to every thing that is going 
forward. They ask many questions, and lay in store a 
fund of useful knowledge. It were, however, devoutly 
to be wished, that when they write their books they 
would give their OAvn honest impressions, as stamped at 
the time and on the spot, instead of a series of dissolv- 
ing views to suit all parties and creeds at home. 

The Romans, the true Romans, are a people full of 
faith and piety; consequently they are "priest-ridden." 
That is to say, like all good Christians, they regard the 
eternal as above the temporal — God above Caesar. 
They take counsel of the ministers of religion ; they re- 
vere them as the servants of God, and they revere the 
pope as his vicegerent. A little while ago I insinuated 
that the true Romans were cowards. I am sorry for it ; 
for I was wrong. They are no cowards. They love 
their country, and would shed their last blood for it ; 
but they love God more. The .pope, the common fa- 
ther of the faithful, forbids them to fight in his defence. 
The priests, the ministers of the altar, foi'bid the shed- 
ding of blood. What, then, can faithful, believing 
Christians do ? Why, retire to their homes, make a sacri- 
fice to God of all thoughts of retaliation and revenge, 
and pray, saying, " Our Father, who art in heaven, hal- 
lowed be thy name ; thy kingdom come, thy will be 
done on earth as it is in heaven." If this be not courage, 
tell me what courage is. 



124 THE ROMANS. 

The true E,omans are rarely seen, still less known, by 
foreign residents in Kome. They are not the servants, 
waiters, and shopkeepers ; they do not frequent the 
fashionable cafes, nor the grand churches ; they occupy 
no tenements in the Piazza di Spagna and the Via Con- 
dotti ; they are not at levees, and parties, and public 
shows. They occupy the more quiet and obscurer 
streets ; they are at home with their families, or at their 
places of business. Vast numbers of them live on the 
banks of the Tiber, and in Trastevere. They are a 
peace-loving, hard-working people ; they are artisans, 
mechanics, manufacturers, and artists. They are full 
of charity and religion. Their faith, like that of St. 
Peter, has never failed, and never will. During the 
pontificate of Gregory XVI., I resided one year among 
them. During that time I was most favorably impressed 
with many excellent traits in their social character. Par- 
ents exercise a most kind, but firm and unflinching, au- 
thority over their children ; in return, the children are 
never guilty of disrespect towards their parents. When 
they come into the house or leave it, they reverently 
kiss the cheek of their mother and the hand of their fa- 
ther. Once I saw a boy returning from school ; he was 
passing a blacksmith's shop ; the smith was welding iron ; 
he had just taken it from the forge, all white, and shoot- 
ing out sparks, and the hammer was upraised to strike 
it, when the boy darted in at the door, and seizing the 
black hand that held the hammer, drew it down to his 
lips and impressed a kiss upon it, and without a word 
hurried out again. The smith was his father. 

They love the daily Mass, and they esteem it a great 
happiness to assist thereat, and a still greater one to be 
permitted to serve it. Even the boys, with their satch- 



ROME. 125 

els in their hands, step into a church, on their way to 
school, to assist at the holy sacrifice. I have counted 
more than a hundred at one time, in the same church, on 
their knees, awaiting the school bell. No human respect 
deters the evening groups from assembling around the 
shrines of the blessed Mother of God, at the corners of 
the streets, to chant litanies in her honor. Wherever 
the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, the churches are 
crowded during the entire day with devout adorers, and 
many remain the whole night to keep watch with their 
Lord. 

"Faith, hope, charity — these three." The faith of 
the Romans, I have already remarked, hath never failed. 
Our Lord prayed for Peter, that his faith fail not. That 
prayer must needs have been efficacious; hence the 
faith of Peter never did fail ; that of the see of Peter 
never can fail. That faith hath descended from apos- 
tolic times to ours, unsullied by a single stain of heresy. 
It is a remarkable fact that no heresy hath ever yet 
come forth and thrived in Pome. No heresy can live 
there, any more than poisonous reptiles can live in the 
Green Isle of the Ocean. The faith of the Pomans is 
proverbial, and strikes with astonishment every visitor. 
It is evinced by their zeal for religion, by their simpli- 
city of belief, by the ardor of their devotion, by the 
fervency of their prayers. When witnesses of it, the 
sincere are converted, sceptics are astounded, infidels 
blaspheme. 

The hope of the Romans is evinced by the multitudes 
that crowd the confessionals. If oppressed with the 
weight of sin, no matter how enormous the crime, in- 
stead of nursing the darling passion, or deferring repent- 
11* - 



126 THE ROMANS. 

ance to a more convenient season, they go promptly to 
their spiritual father, and with the confidence and sim- 
plicity of little ones, unburden their conscience, and 
solicit his benediction, his counsel, and his prayers. 
They know that they shall not be rejected, and that 
the deeper the dye of their guilt the wider will be ex- 
tended a Father's arms to receive them. As the people 
never despair of forgiveness, so the pastors never de- 
spair of the conversion of even the most obdurate sin- 
ner, but through life, and even to the hour of their 
death, though on a scaiFold, will follow them with kind 
words and affectionate reproof, till at length the flood- 
gates of the heart burst open and the tears of com- 
punction flow. 

But the Romans shine with a virtue greater than 
either of these. It is their charity. Says the apostle, 
There remaineth faith, hope, charity — these three ; but 
the greatest of these is charity. In this virtue the Ro- 
mans stand forth preeminent, particularly in that branch 
of it which is perhaps the most beautiful and perfect of 
all, that which ofiers no inducement of temporal reward 
or repayment — I mean such as is exercised towards the 
poor, and the sick, and the imprisoned, and the distressed. 
There are more charitable institutions in Rome for the 
alleviation of poverty and suffering than in any other city 
on the face of the whole earth. The charity of the Romans 
administers both to the souls and to the bodies of men, and 
is found at all hours of clay and night, actively employed 
in hospitals, and prisons, and asylums, and conservato- 
ries, and houses of refuge. There is no disease of body, 
no distress of mind, no visitation of Providence to 
which man is liable, from infancy to hoary age, which is 
not provided for and relieved with a tenderness and prod- 



ROME. 127 

igality of charity never witnessed but in Rome. Every 
traveller is compelled to acknowledge that nowhere else 
has charity assumed so many forms, or tried so many 
arts to discover and to assuage the complicated varie- 
ties of human misery. " I was hungry and ye fed me ; I 
was sick and ye visited me ; I was in prison and ye 
came unto me." 

When at last, from the summit of a hill, we caught 
the last glimpse of the cupola of St. Peter's, my heart 
leaped to my throat, and I thought. Shall I ever see 
Rome again ? But other duties call, and I must away, 
though a heartstring break. Wonderful as Rome is in 
remains of ancient magnificence, and collections of 
modern art and genius, and interesting as are the associa- 
tions that spring up in the mind of every one, at the 
mere name of Rome, it is to the Catholic alone that she 
unfolds her real treasures. To him she is the city of 
faith, and therefdfe the ^^city of God." The cata- 
combs, with their subterranean chapels, and burial 
niches, and ancient frescoes ; the Basilica, coeval with 
the foundation of Christianity ; the thousand monu- 
ments of Christian art collected in the galleries ; the 
grandeur and magnificence of the chiirches, nearly all 
marking some spot or commemorating some event memo- 
rable in history ; the dignity and fitness of all her eccle- 
siastical ceremonies ; and the fervent, simple faith of 
her people, — all speak to his heart ; and, if he has seen 
Rome as a Catholic ought to see it, not by abiding 
among those who come with prejudiced minds to criticise 
and to scoff, nor trusting to lying cicerones and valets de 
place, but by mingling among her native inhabitants, 
visiting her parish churches, her schools, and hospitals, 
and institutions of charity, and judging of all, not by 



128 TEAVELLING IN VETTUEA. 

standards founded on the prejudices of education or 
country, but in the spirit of Christian faith and love, — 
he will, he must come away with a heart purifi'ed and 
elevated by what he has seen and felt, glad from his very 
soul to find that single, simple-hearted faith has reserved 
for herself at least one spot on the earth — one spot that 
she can call her own, and over which she can reign, and 
that spot the throbbing heart of the Christian church, 
from whence life and strength are communicated to the 
whole body. 

FLORENCE. 

We journeyed to Florence in a vettura. This kind of 
carriage has no fixed days for starting, but is always 
prepared to set off when assured of a sufficient number 
of passengers. "What is more remarkable, there is no 
fixed price for passage, but each one strikes the best 
bargain he can for himself, with the padrone, or vettura 
master. We agreed for ten dollars each, the whole dis- 
tance from Rome to Florence. This included lodging at 
night, and two hearty meals a day, viz., breakfast at 
ten o'clock, and dinner at five or six o'clock. Thus we 
had no care, no anxiety about making bargains, searching 
for lodgings, paying innkeepers, &c. ; every thing was 
done by the vetturino, and well done, too. In fact each 
of us had a written contract, in which every item of the 
agreement was clearly stated, and signed by the padrone 
at Rome on the one part and by ourselves on the othei*. 
Half of the ten dollars had been paid in Rome ; the other 
half we held till our arrival at Florence, which was then 
to be paid only on condition that every item of the con- 
tract should be punctually fulfilled. A gratuity waS 



FLORENCE. 129 

also to be given "to the vetturino, or coachman, at Flor- 
ence, according to his services — not to exceed one dol- 
lar each. This is an admirable custom, for it makes the 
coachman dependent in a manner on the passengers, and 
induces him to be exceedingly civil and obliging. 

The first country through which we passed was the 
ancient region of Etruria, the scene of so many furious 
battles and heroic achievements. After leaving the 
banks of the Tiber, which present an abundance of 
luxuriant pasturages, the country is not fertile, and in 
many places presents masses of rocks and frightful 
chasms, the effect, doubtless, of earthquakes and volca- 
noes. At nightfall we arrived at Civita Castellana, a 
small town situated on the summit of a steep moun- 
tain, thirty-five miles from Rome, where we dined and 
slept. While dinner was preparing, we walked to the 
cathedral, a fine old temple, in order to offer our even- 
ing sacrifice of thanks for the mercies of the day. 
Nearly all the people of the town appeared to be flock- 
ing the same way, for the benediction of the Blessed 
Sacrament was to be given that evening. The women 
appeared in a most remarkable costume. Caps and bon- 
nets do not seem yet to have found their way so far 
as this ; and the women, persuaded of the propriety of 
being covered in the church, according to the injunc- 
tion of the apostle, have devised the ingenious expedient 
of an enormous petticoat, made of coarse and stiff cloth, 
like buckram. This they put on over their ordinary 
dress, and then turn up the after part by the hem at the 
bottom, and draw it over their heads somewhat in the 
fashion of a hood. These were of all colors, though 
the prevailing ones were gamboge yellow and beet red. 
They made a most grotesq^ue appearance. 



130 MOUNT SOMMA. 

At an early hour next morning ("four o'clock) we 
left Civita Castellana. Our route lay through a country 
much broken into hills, but rich and well cultivated. 
The second night we dined and slept at Terni, where there 
is a celebrated cascade that attracts the attention and ad- 
miration of most travellers. It is caused by the waters of 
the Velino tumbling over a ridge of broken rock in one vast 
sheet, which, with the surrounding hills, and groves, and 
crags, " feathered with foliage," presents a scene grand 
and lovely. It is said to be one of the finest cascades in 
Europe. Terni contains seven thousand inhabitants, 
and is believed to be as ancient as Rome itself. It was 
the birthplace of the historian Tacitus. Pliny mentions 
that its meadows were mown four times a year. 

The next day with wearisome slowness we ascended 
Mount Somma, with the assistance of a yoke of oxen 
harnessed in as leaders. This novel and odd mode of 
ascending mountains we became quite accustomed to 
before we reached Florence. The range, of which Mount 
Somma is the most lofty, is a spur of the Apennines. 
The height of Mount Somma is five thousand feet. 
About noon we arrived at Spoleto, where we break- 
fasted. This is a very ancient city, situated upon the 
acclivity of a mountain. It is celebrated for the vigor- 
ous resistance made by its inhabitants against the victo- 
rious arms of Hannibal, whom they compelled to an 
ignominous and destructive retreat. In the apartment of 
the inn where we breakfasted is an admirable fresco 
painting, done on the wall, of a tattered beggar with a 
gray beard and bald head, wrinkled and toothless. He 
is represented as looking upon the company through a win- 
dow, holding the remnant of a hat in his hand, and crav- 
ing alms. Scarce any one can view it for the first time 



FLORENCE. 131 

without a start, and a momentary persuasion that it is 
reaUty, and no picture. Not long since, as the waiter 
informed us, an English gentleman, tired of the imper- 
turbable importunity of the beggar, rose from the table, 
and approaching the supposed window, tossed a piece of 
money at the hat, having till that moment really sup- 
posed it to be that of a poor mendicant. After breakfast, 
that is, about one o'clock, we walked to hee a celebrated 
aqueduct, which in the time of the ancient Romans was 
a magnificent bridge. It is constructed on arches of prodi- 
gious elevation, and all of solid masonry. In one part 
it is supported by a double arcade, said to be three hun- 
dred feet high. While expatiating on its beautiful pro- 
portions, and admiring the inimitable skill of the ancients, 
we were all of a sudden quite romantically caught in a 
furious shower, accompanied with darkness, and thunder 
and lightning, and violent wind. Our wise speculations 
went with the wind, and so did we too. We ran, we 
knew not whither for shelter. Perceiving at a little dis- 
tance a huge mill, we made for that, and half drenched 
reached it. The miller, to our great joy, lived in his 
mill, and he very courteously invited us all (we were six 
in number) to mount to his parlor, a seven-cornered 
room, tapestried with cobwebs and various articles of 
wearing apparel, both masculine and feminine. Scattered 
about the floor were an axe, one or two water buckets, . 
some billets of wood, bits of rope, a three-legged stool, 
and two chairs constrained to lie down for want of a 
sufficient number of legs. In one corner stood a small 
regiment of meal bags, filled and well secured at the 
mouth. In the opposite corner sat the wife of the 
miller, on a stool, mending a sack ; and through a door 
opposite to us were rushing in a troop of dirty children 



132 FOLIGNO. 

to look at us and wonder where we came from, and 
what we wanted. The good dame conjectured at once 
the object of our visit, and immediately rose and threw 
down four or five of the full sacks for us to sit on, 
bidding us at the same time welcome, asking with ma- 
ternal solicitude if we were wet, and expressing hopes 
that we should not take cold. Woman every where is 
woman, always the same, thoughtful, kind, and affec- 
tionate. We chatted and laughed with the miller and 
his family till the storm was over, and then making a 
present of a few pauls to the worthy dame, we took leave 
and hastened to search for our vetturino, who had agreed 
to meet us with the carriage. Towards evening we ar- 
rived at Foligno, where we dined and slept. This is a 
fine town, containing about seven thousand inhabitants, 
situated in a delicious valley irrigated by the ancient 
Clitumnus. We were surprised at the commercial ac- 
tivity, industry, and thriftiness of the inhabitants. The 
streets were clean and handsome, and the noisy hum of 
labor assailed us from every quarter. At the cathedral^ 
a fine lai'ge building, crowded with pious worshippers, 
we received the benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. 
Next morning the vetturino roused us at daybreak. It 
was a lovely morning, and we set off in fine spirits. 
Our route lay through the most delicious country that 
we have yet seen. Fields teeming with vegetation, vast 
and luxuriant prairies, lay extended as far as the eye 
could reach. We had travelled the distance of five or six 
miles in the midst of this beautiful valley, watching the 
grazing herds, and listening to the varied songs of innu- 
merable birds, when, suddenly, in the midst of these 
boundless plains arose, as if by enchantment,, an isolated 
temple, of vast dimensions and magnificent architecture. 



ASSISIUM. 133 

It was tlie celebrated Church of the Madonna degli An- 
geli, the metropolitan or mother church of the order of St. 
Francis, Our vetturino drove us nearly to the church 
dooi', and gave us an opportunity to examine it more in 
detail. We entered, and after a few moments of prayer, 
in which all the passengers engaged with great apparent 
devotion, we were shown a small chapel in which St. 
Francis of Assisium was accustomed to offer his devo- 
tions, and another in which he died. The whole interior 
of the church is adorned with frescoes ; some of the 
finest are by Overbeck. About fifteen years since, the 
greater part of this temple was totally destroyed by an 
earthquake ; but it has been restored with great taste and 
elegance. About two miles distant, on the summit of a 
hill, lies the town of Assisium, the birth place of St. 
Francis. After making many objections, our vetturino 
at length consented to our going thither on foot, and 
agreed to await our return. The walk was delightful, 
as may well be supposed. The town contains about four 
thousand inhabitants. It was the Church of St. Francis 
that we particularly desired to see. We found our way 
to it without a guide. It consists of three churches, one 
above the other. Each one is of good dimensions, and 
richly decorated with paintings, some of them of the old 
school. The lower church is subterranean, and contains 
the tomb and body of St. Francis, and we examined it 
by torch light. The two upper ones are of Gothic 
architecture, and very beautiful. The windows were 
all brilliantly painted with full length figures of the 
Blessed Virgin and the saints. In the upper church of 
all was an immense rose window, of surpassing bril- 
liancy. Most of the windows are ancient, though the 
priest who accompanied us as guide showed us some that 
12 



134 PERUGIA. 

were modern ; and to my unpractised eye these last 
yielded not to the former in beauty of design, dehcacy 
of coloring, and richness of execution. There is adjoin- 
ing a fine large monastery of Fi'anciscans. But we 
have already tarried too long, and our poor vetturino 
will be out of patience. We hastened back, and found 
him pacing to and fro by the side of the carriage, look- 
ing black as thunder. He said not a word, but opened 
the doors, waited in silence till we had all taken our 
seats, then slowly mounted his box, occupied more time 
than usual in adjusting himself, and then drove on. 

We reached Perugia about noon, with a keen appetite 
for breakfast. Perugia is a handsome walled city, con- 
taining about fifteen thousand inhabitants, abounding in 
noble edifices, its streets broad and well paved, and 
magnificently situated on the summit of a lofty moun- 
tain of exquisite beauty and luxuriance, at the foot of 
which flows the Tiber. It is at present the capital of 
the beautiful province of Umbria, and its inhabitants are 
alike distinguished for their industry and their warlike 
courage. Its churches and public buildings are richly 
decorated with paintings and other monuments of art. 
It possesses a university, an academy, hospitals, manu- 
factures of velvet and silk, and divers other useful es- 
tablishments. Its principal commerce consists of wool, 
silk, oil, and cattle. 

At nightfall we reached Pasignano, a small' village on 
the border of the Lake Trasimenus, where we dined and 
slept. As it was Friday, we were served with fish, of 
which we had two dishes. The first was a species of 
eel, very large, and the second was about the size of a 
full-grown codfish, called la regina. They were caught 
in the lake. Pasignano is celebrated for one event. 



FLORENCE. 135 

and that a memorable one. It was here that Hannibal, 
by a masterly stroke of military skill, defeated and cut 
to pieces a Roman army, with the consul Flaminius at 
its head. Tliis was two hundred and seventeen years 
before the birth of Christ. At the distance of a few 
miles are a village and a bridge that still retain the name 
of Sanguinetto, so called from the prodigious effusion 
of Roman blood shed on that memorable day. 

The next day we crossed the Tuscan frontier, where 
our baggage was examined and plundered by the custom 
house officers, and we stopped at Castellione for break- 
fast, where, in consequence of the excessive htat of the 
weather, we remained till about three o'clock. Thence, 
through one of the most magnificent and luxuriant plains 
that the eye of man ever beheld, or that the pen of poet 
ever attempted to describe, we proceeded on our journey. 
This plain is the valley of the Chiana, is sixteen miles in 
length, and surrounded by mountains whose deep and 
sombre foliage made an enchanting contrast with the gay 
and exuberant fertility of the plain. Never before had 
I seen so elegant a landscape in so rich a frame. At 
Arezzo we descended from our carriage, and passed 
through the city on foot. It is a fine city, containing 
about ten thousand inhabitants, and built in the Tuscan 
style of elegance and simplicity. The streets are straight, 
broad, and clean, and paved with flags. There are some 
public buildings, and many churches of noble architec- 
ture ; and these latter are rich in paintings. This city 
gave birth to Petrarch, and also to Guide, a monk of the 
eleventh century, who invented the scale of notes now 
used in music. At eight o'clock this evening we ar- 
rived at Rimaggio, where we dined and slept. 

At four o'clock next morning, which was Sunday, we 



136 THE YAL D' ARNO. 

were en route once more, and stopped at Inclsa, a small 
country village, to breakfast, after which, according to 
our contract, we all went to church and heard Mass. We 
were charmed with the piety and devotion of the people. 
The church was so crowded that it was with difficulty 
that we could wedge out a spot to kneel on. There had 
already been two Masses, attended by congregations 
equally numerous ; neither was this to be the last. 
Young and old were arrayed in their best habiliments, 
which, throughout the whole region of Tuscany, are re- 
markably neat and becoming. 

This Was our last day of travel, and, much as we de- 
sired to see Florence, we almost regretted that it was so 
near. In fact, about five o'clock this afternoon, while 
we were rapidly descending the long but gentle decliv- 
ity, at a turn of the road the beautiful city burst upon 
us in all its charms. It lay reposing beneath us in the 
incomparable valley of the Arno. The " Campagna " 
that surrounds Florence for leagues and leagues is one 
rich and heavy garden, literally studded with villas and 
with cottages, and every villa and cottage imbosomed in 
verdure, and shining through the foliage. Florence her- 
self, with her venerable towers and domes, sparkled like 
a gem in the midst, divided in twain by the waters of 
the Arno, which dispensed exuberance , over the plains 
— and those plains environed by the Apennines. But 
enough. If I had not already too often expressed a 
similar sentiment of other scenes, I would say that this 
was the most enchanting one my eyes had ever rested 
on. In two hours more we were comfortably lodged in 
an excellent hotel. 

Thus we made the journey from E.ome to Florence 
without a single accident, or eyen a romantic adventure. 



FLORENCE. 137 

Thougli unarmed, and lodging at night in strange houses, 
where were none but strange faces, and all our baggage 
out of doors on the top of the carriage, at the mercy of 
the little dark-complexioned Italian vetturino, neither 
of us had our throats cut nor a shred stolen. Each night 
I went to bed feeling as secure as if in my father's 
house, and as unconcerned about my trunk and carpet 
bag as though they were in my chamber. I assure you 
there is no town in New England in which I would 
consent to leave my baggage on the top of a carriage all 
night, under no other protection than an alcove in a 
horse shed. But these are Italians, mind — thieving, 
cut-throat, desperate Italians, that are held in such hor- 
ror by the pious dames of our favored land. Moreover, 
in no place did we receive other than kind and courteous 
treatment, and in no place (and this will please our 
mothers and sisters) did we find damp or dirty sheets. 

Florence, most justly surnamed la bella, (the beautiful,) 
reposes in the midst of that magnificent and luxuriant 
valley of the Arno. This beautiful vale, dotted with 
innumerable white farm houses and elegant country 
seats, rich in every fruit, and vegetable, and flower, 
cushioned with hillocks of every variety of form, and 
encircled by the Apennines, presents one vast and close- 
ly cultivated garden, in which the groves, and orchards, 
and villas constitute the parterres and summer houses. 
Its general appearance is clean and airy — its streets 
handsomely paved with flags — its squares spacious and 
numerous — its public buildings and churches elegant 
— and its cathedral, and some of its more ancient pal- 
aces, grand and imposing. 

The cathedral is a magnificent edifice, and ranks 
among the first in Europe. " It is, in fact," says a dis- 
12* 



138 CATHEDRAL. 

tinguished traveller^ " if we consider magnitude and 
material, boJ.dness and skill, the second, and in these 
respects inferior only to the nnrivalled Vatican." Its 
walls on the outside are incrusted from top to bottom with 
black and white polished marble. The interior is paved 
with a variety of colored marbles, arranged, it is said, 
by Michael Angelo. It is decorated within and without 
by marble statues, and its paintings are masterpieces. 
It stands in a spacious square, entirely detached from 
other buildings, and is seen to great advantage. Its size 
appears immense, greater even than it really is, though it 
measures upwards of four hundred feet in length. It 
was commenced about the year 1290, by Arnolfo, and 
finished about the middle of the fifteenth century, by 
Brunellesco. The lantern is of solid marble, beautifully 
carved. The dome of this church is said to have sug- 
gested to Michael Angelo the idea of the far nobler and 
more beautiful dome of St. Peter's at Rome. 

The campanile, or belfry of the cathedral, is a lofty, 
light, and elegant quadrangular tower, entirely detached 
from the main building. It is two hundred and eighty 
feet in height, and is incrusted with highly polished 
marble of various colors, and encircled with statues and 
bass-reliefs of exquisite workmanship. It was construct- 
ed in 1334, and is said to be the most, beautiful edifice 
of its kind in Italy. 

The Baptistery, called also the Church of St. John, 
also detached from the cathedral, is an edifice of an oc- . 
tagonal form, and very ancient. It is thought to have 
been originally a temple of Mars. In 1293 the mer- 
chants of Florence caused its exterior to be incrusted 
with polished marble. The interior is adorned with 
sixteen immense columns of granite, which support a 



FLORENCE. 139 

gallery, the entire roof of which is covered with richly 
executed mosaics. Between these columns are statues 
representing the twelve apostles. The pavement is 
composed of ancient mosaic, in one part representing 
the sun, with the signs of the zodiac. The Baptistery 
is, moreover, decorated with three large bronze portals, 
celebrated for the exquisite beauty of their bass-reliefs, 
representing historical events recorded in the Holy Scrip- 
tures. Michael Angelo termed them the Gates of Pai'a- 
dise. On the sides of the principal entrance we re- 
marked two porphyry columns, the same that were 
presented to the Florentines by the inhabitants of Pisa, 
when the latter returned from the conquest of the Bal- 
earic Isles. 

The same day we sought out and found the house 
formerly owned and occupied by Michael Angelo. It is 
still in the possession of the descendants of his family. 
We were showed four of the rooms that he had occupied. 
The walls were covered with frescoes, representing dif- 
ferent events of his life, and for the most part executed 
by his scholars ; some few, however, were painted by 
himself. We were showed some fine specimens of sculp- 
ture executed by him, some of them unfinished ; also 
his first draught on paper of the celebrated last judg- 
ment, which still forms so conspicuous an ornament in 
the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican. We saw also his 
walking cane and sword, and the slippers he was accus- 
tomed to wear when at work. In one room was a large 
number of rare shells collected by himself, and several 
crucifixes and chaplets, together with relics of saints, 
many of which had been presented to him by popes and 
cardinals. His studio contained several unfinished pieces 
of sculpture and painting. We had the satisfaction of 



140 ROYAL GALLERY. 

sitting in the same chairs that had once constituted a 
part of his furniture. 

One of the richest ornaments of Florence is the 
Eoyal Gallery, which we visited nearly every day, and 
which we should never be weary of visiting. It is an 
immense building in the form of the letter U, and con- 
tains the finest collection of paintings in the world, 
besides numerous masterpieces in statuary, among which 
are the celebrated Venus de' Medici, the Wrestlers, and 
the Scythian Slave. The Venus was found in Adrian's 
Villa, and is supposed to have been the work of Prax- 
iteles. The two parallel galleries are each four hundred 
and thirty feet long, and that which, unites them is one 
hundred. The immense space not being sufficient to 
contain all the treasures of the Museum, a large num- 
ber of lateral halls has been added. To give an ade- 
quate idea of these treasures would be impossible. It 
would require a ream of paper ; and besides I have nei 
ther the patience nor the requisite qualifications for the 
task. Independently of thousands of pictures, of every 
description imaginable, of the best masters of every 
school in every age, — independently of an infinity of 
busts and statues, and groups in marble and in bronze, 
— there are admirable collections of medals, cameos, 
mosaics, precious stones, and Etruscan and Roman an- 
tiquities. There is also a collection, unique of its kind, 
of upwards of two hundred portraits of great painters, 
nearly all painted by themselves. The ceilings are 
adorned with arabesques and paintings of various kiuds, 
representing the revival of the arts and sciences, and 
other historical subjects, in which are introduced the 
portraits of generals, statesmen, princes, and other re- 
nowned characters among the Florentines. Among so 



FLORENCE. 141 

rich and unparalleled a collection of paintings, it would 
be impossible, at least for one so little skilled in the arts 
as myself, to declare which were the richest. Those that 
made the greatest impression upon me, at least that re- 
mained the longest and most distinctly on my memory, 
were a large picture of Joseph and Potiphar's Wife, a 
Wild Boar Hunt by Snyders, an Adoration of the Infant 
Jesus by Gherardo delta Notte, a Visitation by Alberti- 
nelli, and a Head of Medusa by Garavaggio. The class 
of paintings that pleased me most, as a whole, were the 
Christian pieces of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and six- 
teeth centuries. There was a peculiar delicacy in the 
coloring, and heavenly sweetness in the countenances, 
that are not to be found in modern paintings. 

We visited all the principal churches, which are 
magnificently ornamented with paintings and statues, 
and some of them of great antiquity. Each one is, in 
fact, a rich museum, and would constitute the pride and 
marvel of any other country than Italy. The most 
beautiful of these churches were commenced, and deco- 
rated with their choicest ornaments, so early as the thir- 
teenth century — that sad era of gross intellectual darJc- 
ness and Popish ignorance ! 

On one occasion that I shall long remember we paid 
a visit to the house formerly occupied by the celebrated 
Galileo, situated in a sweet, retired village, upon the 
declivity of a high hill, about three miles from the 
Porta Romana, or Roman Gate. On our way we passed 
the houses formerly occupied by Americo Vespucci 
and Macchiavelli. We arrived at the house of Galileo 
just before sundown, on one of those lovely evenings so 
frequent in Italy, warm and serene, but exhilarating, 
when one feels in love with the world and with every 



142 TUSCAN LADIES. 

one in it, and would fain persuade liimself that guilt 
and sorrow exist but in fictions and legends, and that 
the balmly breeze that fans him, and the thousand 
flowers that regale his senses, and the gay parterres 
and verdant fields that are spread around him, and the 
ever-changing music of innumerable birds, mingling 
with the sublimer canticles of men offering their ac- 
customed even-song to God — that these belong to par- 
adise, and are the heritage of innocence. In attempt- 
ing to reach the house of Galileo by a shorter way than 
the usual path, we happily lost ourselves in a beautiful 
and most romantic villa. Having sufficiently enjoyed 
its beauties, we were hastening to escape without being 
discovered by the proprietor, who might be reasonably 
alarmed at finding four foreigners in his park so near 
nightfall, and being in a very narrow path, that wound 
among the flowers and shrubbery, we suddenly perceived 
approaching us a party of females. We were somewhat 
embarrassed, for we feared to agitate and alarm them by 
our intrusion. It was too late, however, to retreat ; so 
we continued to advance without manifesting any con- 
fusion. Just before they reached us we stopped, and 
stood on one side of the narrow pathlet, that they 
might pass us. The party consisted of a matronly 
lady of majestic mien and a countenance fall of sweet- 
ness and dignity, and four or five young ladies, of 
different ages, all probably her daughters, and all 
bearing a greater or less resemblance to their mother. 
They were all dressed in long frocks, perfectly white, 
and on their heads they wore those beautiful broad- 
leafed Tuscan hats that form so important and be- 
coming a part of the dress of the Tuscan peasantry. 
The mother led the way, and as she passed us, without 



FLOEBNCE. 143 

evincing the smallest surprise or embarrassment, she 
smiled with an expression of countenance full of kind- 
ness and hospitality, and saluting us with a graceful 
inclination of the body, in the manner of the Tuscan 
ladies, she passed on ; and each of her daughters sa- 
luted us in the same manner. They were possessed 
of all those remarkable and distinguishing features that 
constitute the charm of Italian beauty ; but it was not 
so much their beauty that made an impression indelible 
on our minds, as it was the unaffected grace of their 
manners, the simple elegance of their dress, and the 
ingenuousness, innocence, and goodness that beamed 
from their countenances. 

We first visited the observatory of Galileo, which is 
still standing — a sort of square tower, from which he 
was accustomed to make his astronomical observations. It 
stands on the stimmit of a hill, which commands a mag- 
nificent view of Florence, and of the Eden that sur- 
rounds it. We then visited his house, where we were 
showed his rooms, still containing the furniture he had 
used, and various pictures and other articles that had 
belonged to him. 

Many of the statements industriously propagated with 
regard to Galileo, even by men whose literary eminence 
and intellectual attainments would otherwise entitle them 
to respect, may be regarded as absolute falsehoods, en- 
gendered by prejudice and bigotry. For example, it is 
false that Galileo was ever condemned as a heretic, or 
his theory of the earth's diurnal motion as a heresy. On 
the contrary, he received express permission, by a decree 
from Rome so early as the year 1620, to teach his sys- 
tem as an astronomical hypothesis ; which terms were 
employed because his system in the minds of the learned 



144 HOUSE OF INDUSTRY. 

had not yet been proved to a demonstration. It is false, 
too, that he was imprisoned for teaching that system ; for, 
besides the permission above mentioned, it is certain that 
the same system was publicly taught at that very time 
in one of the most celebrated colleges at Rome, under 
the very eyes of the holy office. It is false that the 
Church ever pronounced his theory untrue ; all her pre- 
tensions were confined to the assertion that it was not to 
be demonstrated from the Bible. It is false that he was 
persecuted and abused by the pope and cardinals, and 
then suffered a long and criiel imprisonment ; his own 
letters sufficiently refute the calumny. 

The Church and Convent of St. Mark belong to the 
Dominican fathers. The former is enriched with a large 
number of exquisite paintings ; and that which chiefly 
interested ns in the latter were the cells of Fra Barto- 
lommeo, Fra Angelico, and Fra Savonarola. The two 
first named were distinguished painters of the Dominican 
order, and we were showed their easels and many unfin- 
ished pieces just as they had left them four hundred 
years since. Savonarola was very famous in his day. 
Impelled by pride and ambition, he quitted the humble 
and retired walks prescribed by his religious profession, 
and entering the stormy arena of politics, became a popu- 
lar demagogue and leader of a party, and arrayed all 
his genius and eloquence, of which he had an extraordi- 
nary share, against the family of the Medicis and the 
dignitaries of the church. With two of his companions, 
he was condemned and publicly executed in 1498. We 
saw his portrait and crucifix still preserved in the cell 
he occupied. 

The House of Industry, or Poorhouse, is a noble pile 
of edifices of vast dimensions, capable of containing 



PLOEBNCE. 145 

three thousand persons. The actual number of inmates 
is about one thousand, a large proportion of whom are 
children. In conseq^uence of the establishment of this 
institution, and the salutary regulations of the grand 
duke, which rec[uire all persons who cannot earn their 
own living to take refuge here, Florence has been en- 
tirely freed from mendicity. All the inmates, except the 
infirm, are required to. labor, and in return they are 
liberally supported. Their clothing is neat and comfort- 
able, and adapted to the different seasons ; and their food 
is wholesome and abundant. They are neither clothed 
nor fed as criminals, nor are they made to feel that they 
are in a dependent or degraded condition. Their very 
looks betoken contentment and good cheer. They re- 
ceive at their meals an abundance of vegetables, soup, 
bread, and wine. Two or three times a week they have 
meat ; but the Italians are not accuston^d to eat much 
meat, and the lower orders seldom use it at all — ■ 
bread and salad being their chief nourishment, and that 
of which they are most fond. We saw the workshops 
both for the males and females. The number and 
variety of these shops were very great. The principal 
occupations carried on were the weaving of carpets, 
ribbons, stockings, woollen and linen cloth, and the 
manufacturing of sailors' caps, yarn, &c., &c. The 
boys were principally occupied at shoemaking, tailoring, 
blacksmithing, brass founding, &c. We were informed 
that the proceeds of their labor nearly support the insti- 
tution, and would q^uite, were it not that one sixth of 
the profits of the labor of each individual is placed in a 
savings bank for his or her particular benefit, and which 
they receive when discharged from the institution. If 
indisposed, there is an excellent infirmary attached, 
13 



146 HOUSE OP INDUSTEY. 

•where the patients are provided with physicians, nurses, 
and every thing necessary for their comfort. If their 
indisposition, however, be of a serious nature, they are 
removed to one of the city hospitals. The children are 
required to attend school every day, where they are 
taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and even litera- 
ture, science, and the fine arts, where an aptitude is dis- 
covered for these higher branches of education. In the 
schools the system of mutual instruction is followed. 
All the departments of the house, from the kitchen to 
the dormitories, we found remarkably clean and well 
arranged. The dormitories were perfectly well venti- 
lated, and consisted of long halls, containing from fifty 
to seventy-five beds, arranged in a single row on either 
side. The bedsteads are of iron, and therefore free from 
vermin. Indeed, iron bedsteads are in almost universal 
use in Italy and France, even in private families. They 
are undoubtedly the cleanest, the most durable, and the 
cheapest, and it surprises me that they have not been 
adopted in all our public institutions in America. They 
can be purchased for a trifle more than the cost of the 
iron, and after a hundred years' use the iron loses noth- 
ing in weight, and can be sold, therefore, for something 
less than their original cost. Besides, they cannot be 
consumed by fire, nor eaten by worms, nor destroyed by 
dampness and time. The first cost would undoubtedly 
exceed that of wood, but a calculating, economical peo- 
ple should not be alarmed at the first cost, which is, 
after all, but an imaginary one ; for the purchase of iron 
is, in fact, a real investment, as much so as would be the 
purchase of so many bars of pure gold. The hour of 
dinner arrived before we left, and- we had the pleasure 
of seeing the inmates at their repast. We were particu- 



FLORENCE. 147 

larly pleased with the orderly demeanor of the children-. 
The boys were iu one refectory, and the girls in another. 
We reached the boys' refectory a few moments only be- 
fore they came in. They entered in a single line, in 
great order and perfect silence. Each one stood at the 
place assigned him, at a given signal faced the table, 
then knelt, united in a short and appropriate responsive 
blessing of the table, making the sign of the cross at the 
beginning and end, then drew up their benches, seated 
themselves, and finally fell to eating, as good, stout, 
healthy boys should. Each motion, until the eating 
commenced, was directed by the touch of a small bell 
that the superior held in his hand. Their meals are 
eaten in silence. They have vegetables, bread, and wine, 
and three days in the week meat is added. Their sup- 
per is the same, with the exception of meat. They have 
bread and milk for breakfast. 

In the cool of the afternoon we made a very agree- 
able ramble in the Royal, commonly called the Boholi, 
Gardens. They are attached to the Palazzo Pitti, or 
palace of the grand duke, which is the royal residence. 
These gardens resemble those of Versailles, only that, to 
my taste, they are much more beautiful. Nature and 
art unite, by a most happy and agreeable combination, in 
their construction. Your eye is regaled by an almost 
endless variety of enchanting perspectives, but is never 
wearied with gazing. At one moment we were lost 
among the undulations of the ground, and seemed to be 
in a valley environed with hills ; at another, from a lofty 
summit, we contemplated the valley of the Arno and the 
whole city of Florence, and close by us the court yard 
of the palace, in which two of the royal coaches, each 
with six horses mounted by postilions, were sweeping 



148 BOYS* COSTUME. 

on the gallop, to leave the princes and princesses at the 
door of the palace ; at another we found ourselves in a 
wide-extended plain, its rank verdure waving in the 
breeze ; next we were lost in the gloomy shades of a 
thick forest ; then ascended and descended gravelled 
alleys embowered in boxwood and myrtle, through 
whose long and umbrageous extent we beheld the sky 
as through an opera glass ; then, by making a lateral 
turn, we found ourselves transported, as if by magic, 
into a smiling garden of flowers, with its marble benches 
for repose, and its statues, and sporting fountains, and 
lakes sparkling with gold fishes ; and finally, by ad- 
vancing a little farther, our ears were assailed with the 
joyous shouts of children at play, and presently we 
issued forth into a green field, where a hundred boys 
and girls were playing and romping on the grass, and 
their delighted parents and aunts were standing by, or 
sitting on the ground, watching their sports, nay, often 
taking part therein. Here we arrested our course, and 
spent at least an hour in watching the gambols of these 
young Florentines ; and it was not till half an hour after 
sunset, when the deepening tints of the western sky 
warned us of the approach of night, that we thought of 
returning to our lodgings. 

In different parts of Tuscany I observed many boys, 
in the fields and on the road sides, with no other garment 
than a long white robe. At first I thought it in conse- 
quence of their poverty, but on further observation was 
convinced that it was merely a dress of comfort ; for I 
afterwards saw many clean, tidy-looking boys playing 
before their father's house, — the house and grounds 
manifesting wealth in the proprietor, — or accompanying 
their parents to walk, and yet in the same dress, that is. 



FLORENCE. 149 

in a simple robe. It would be thought an odd fashion 
among us ; but the Tuscan youth, I doubt not, find it an 
exceedingly comfortable, as well as convenient, one. 
This circumstance may serve to elucidate some of those 
travellers' tales which represent the condition of the 
Italians as awfully deplorable, — so much so that the 
children go about almost in a state of nudity, — and 
which stir up the hearts and thimbles of half the Dor- 
cas societies in the country to provide for their relief. 
The fact is, that in Tuscany there is not one half the 
poverty that exists in the United States, and a greater 
degree of happiness and domestic peace. Many rea- 
sons might be alleged for this ; two only I will name : 
The first is, there are no drunkards, and therefore none 
of the wretchedness and squalid indigence consequent 
on drunkenness ; the second, that it is a Catholic coun- 
try, and therefore poverty and sufiering are kindly and 
cheerfully relieved, not punished. 

The industry of the Tuscan peasantry is a remarkable 
feature in their character. In going from Florence to 
Leghorn, I observed the laborers, both men and women, 
every where in the fields ; which abounded with wheat, 
grape vines, fig trees, and vegetables of every kind. In 
the thickly-settled towns or villages, the women and 
girls sat all along in the streets, braiding Tuscan straw, 
and making it into hats so well known among us as Leg- 
horn hats. They appeared to me the most thrifty-look- 
ing, healthy, and cheerful people I have ever seen. It 
should also be added that they are eminently a social and 
religious people, possessed of great simplicity of charac- 
ter and purity of morals, and enjoy in the bosom of their 
families a more than ordinary share of felicity. I was 
much struck with the appearance of the ladies^ whose 
13* 



150 AN AMEEICAN ARTIST. 

modest demeanor, unaffected grace, and natural beauty, 
rendered still more conspicuous and attractive by the 
simple elegance of their dress, which consisted of full 
snow-white robes and large Tuscan hats, without ribbons 
or jewels, cannot fail to inspire every beholder with 
respect. Those gibbous deformities, called bonnets', 
form no part of the Tuscan dress, though, unhappily, 
they are beginning to be adopted by the higher ranks 
of ladies, whose taste is corrupted by intercourse with 
English and French residents. 

The following morning I went, alone to see the Church 
of the Annunciation. It is a splendid structure, and 
rich in paintings executed by the best masters. It is 
incrusted with highly polished marbles and gilded stuc- 
coes. After having seen the church sufficiently, I retired 
to one of the beautiful corridors which conducts to it 
from an adjoining monastery, to await the arrival of a 
friend who had agreed to meet me there. Here I found 
an artist from the United States busily occupied in copy- 
ing a painting. He was disposed to talk, and we im- 
mediately entered into conversation. He informed me, 
among other things, that the monks to whom the adjoin- 
ing monastery belonged had given him permission to 
spend one month among them, sketching from their 
choicest paintings. "But," added he, *' I do not copy 
for the subject, for I neither know nor care what it is, 
but solely for the faces — some of which are very fine 
— and for the grouping." 

" But," said I, " if you were informed of the events 
which these pictures are intended to commemorate, and 
of the characters and histories of the persons represent- 
ed, would it not aid you in appreciating their merits, 
and, as it were, inspire your own pencil in imparting 
life to them ? " 



FLORENCE. 151 

" Not at all," he replied ; " for I regard all those 
stories and legends as so many lies, and all the monks as 
a set of rascals." 

This was using rather plain language for a young 
artist, in the heart of Italy, and on the very premises of 
the monks themselves. But I could not attribute it to 
a desire to wound the feelings of his obliging benefac- 
tors, for there were none present to hear, and if there 
had been, they would not probably have understood. 
Neither could I attribute it to a spirit of high-minded, 
fearless American independence, for he believed me to 
be a Protestant, like himself ; and, much pleased with 
the pungency of his remark, he ceased from his work 
and awaited my approbation. For a moment the old 
Adam stirred within me, and I could have charged him, 
face to face, with deliberate, known, and insolent false- 
hood. But this passed away, and I looked up for a mo- 
ment at the beautiful fresco from which he was sketch- 
ing, and which represented a group of monks supporting 
a venerable old priest, who had just descended from the 
altar after having concluded his Mass, and was dying in 
their arms ; and I said, " As to the monks, if these be por- 
traits, there must have been some holy ones in that com- 
pany." 

'* Better, no doubt," replied he, crustily, " in those 
days than any we see nowadays ; the present monks 
are a miserable, idle race." 

" Are you personally acquainted with any of them ? " 
I asked. 

" No, I never had the slightest acquaintance with any 
one, neither do I desire to have any." 

" I regret that very much," I answered, confining my- 
self to the first part of his re^^ly ; " for had you been, I 



152 PEOTESTANT IGNORANCE. 

am sure that you would entertain a very different 
opinion with regard to them. For my part, I have 
had the good fortune to be acquainted with many of 
them, both in France and in Italy, and am happy to be 
able to inform you that I have found among them per- 
sons of refined manners, sound and varied learning, and 
sincere piety ; and I believe them, as a body, to excel in 
the practice of every Christian virtue." 

" It may be so," he replied, with an incredulous 
shrug ; " the only ones I have ever spoken with are 
those in this monastery." 

"And have you, then, found these of a character to 
confirm your unfavorable judgment of the whole body, 
or is it in consequence of their treatment of you, that 
you just now pronounced all monks ' a set of rascals ' ? " 

" O, no, no," he instantly answered, as though shocked 
at such an inference. " On the contrary, I have been 
most agreeably surprised at their piety and intelligence, 
and in particular at their kindness and urbanity towards 
myself, whom they know to be a Protestant." 

I had just time to congratulate him upon having fall- 
en into such excellent hands, and to express my pleas- 
ure that he should have made so candid, though invol- 
untarily, an avowal of it, when my friend arrived, and I 
was compelled to bid the artist a good morning. 

The above is but one among many facts that have 
convinced me of how little value are the opinions and 
judgments of Protestants, though otherwise intelligent 
and agreeable men, on all questions touching the faith 
of Catholics. Is it that, with all their pains and money 
expended in the attainment of a collegiate education, 
they have, after all, only acquired a vast amount of IG- 
NORANCE ? Is it that all their intelligence, and re- 



FLORENCE. 153 

finement, and polite accomplishments, are a mere exter- 
nal whitening ? Is it that, though adopting Christian 
names, they are, in fact, no better at heart than the 
equally polished and accomplished gentlemen of the age 
of Caesar Augustus ? 

Here is a gentleman of agreeable manners, and of no 
small intelligence, educated at one of our best colleges, 
who knows something "of history, or ought to know, 
who has improved his mind by travel in foreign lauds, 
and yet, withal, has formed the opinion of a considera- 
ble body of men in the Catholic church distinguished 
alike for their learning and piety, and their contributions 
to art and science, that they are all a " set of rascals." 

This gentleman will return to the United States, He 
will carry his opinions with him. These opinions" will 
have the more weight, that he has resided abroad in 
Catholic countries, and seen into the interior of convents, 
associated with the monks themselves, and, in one word, 
has had the best means of obtaining information. They 
will, most undoubtedly, be adopted and pass current in 
the circle in which he moves, be it great or small ; and 
each individual of that circle will form another centre, 
whence to give them a new impulse, of course garnished 
and exaggerated in their progress ; and all the mem- 
bers of these different circles will live and die in the 
firm belief of one of the blackest falsehoods ever in- 
vented by Satan, to wit, that monks and friars are, as a 
body, a "set of rascals." From similar sources, equally 
trivial at least, have arisen the host of prejudices and 
the mass of ignorance that pervert the judgment, and 
do injustice to the hearts of our countrymen, on the sub- 
ject of the Catholic religion. 

But let us for one moment analyze the opinion of 



154 PROTESTANT PREJUDICE. 

this gentleman. Let us discovei', if we can, on what 
ground it rests, and we may thence judge what weight 
in general to attach to the opinions of those who differ 
from us in faith, how well informed soever they may 
profess to be. And first, was his opinion founded on a 
personal acquaintance with the individuals thus openly 
denounced ? 0, not at all. He had never had a per- 
sonal acquaintance with an individual of the whole body. 
Had he then received from them rudeness or insult ? 
O, no ; on the contrary, the only ones with whom 
he had ever had the least intercourse had treated him 
with great kindness and courtesy ; had thrown open to 
him their choicest galleries, and with Christian urbanity 
had invited him to make himself at home among them 
for a month, little imagining that they were cherishing 
an irreconcilable foe, utterly unable to appreciate the at- 
tentions they proffered him. Neither was his judgment 
the result of a studious investigation of the subject, or 
of information obtained from approved Catholic authors ; 
for, as he himself avowed, he had never, to his knowl- 
edge, opened a Catholic book of any kind, or conversed 
with a Catholic on the subject. 

It is, then, simply because they are Catholics, that he 
condemns the monks and brands them as knaves. Un- 
happily, the young men of our country are imbued with 
such prejudices against the Catholic faith, that, without 
the least knowledge of its principles, they feel a pride 
in contemning and vilifying it. From their very infan- 
cy, the idea is rubbed into their minds by the untiring 
zeal of parents and Sunday school teachers, that the 
Catholic church is the stronghold of the devil, and the 
monks his emissaries. Impressed with such ideas, then, 
every thing that is Catholic is bad ; every thing that is 



FLORENCE. 155 

anti-Catholic is good. Justice is forgotten, argument is 
rejected, truth is disregarded. Sectarianism, however 
multiplied, and however abhorrent to reason and Scrip- 
ture, is regarded with indifference ; infidelity is tolerated, 
Mahometanism is respected; but Catholicism, — that is, 
the religion of nearly all Christendom, the religion that 
has planted the standard of the cross in every Christian 
land, and to which its enemies are indebted for the very 
name of Christian, — Catholicism is vilified and hunted 
with all the fury and perseverance of the most irrecon- 
cilable hostility. But, after all, we should not suffer 
ourselves to be betrayed into feelings or expressions of 
anger, much less of reciprocal hatred towards those of 
our brethren who have the misfortune to be educated 
with such cruel and unjust sentiments towards us. This 
blind opposition to the truth, this induration of the bet- 
ter feelings of their nature, should be regarded by us 
rather with sorrow than with anger. For time and for 
eternity, the loss will be theirs rather than ours, unless 
it be that we fail in making sufficient efforts for their 
conversion. In a spirit, then, far different from that of 
the Pharisee, let us thank God that we are not as they 
are, and after the example of the Saviour of men, offer 
them a return of forgiveness and of charity. 

But to return to our artist. Of all persons on the 
earth's face to be jaundiced by these unmanly prejudices, 
one would suppose an artist would be the last. To 
Catholics is he indebted for every aid and appliance 
necessary to his success ; nay, more, for the very life and 
nerve of his art. The very moment he is fired with an 
emulation to excel in painting or in sculpture, he leaves 
home and country ; he flies to Catholic regions ; he 
studies and paints in Catholic churches, and convents. 



156 STOEY OF A FRIAE. 

and galleries ; he imbibes inspiration from, tbe prodiic- 
tions of Catholic masters. The unrivalled galleries of 
the Vatican at Rome, the royal galleries of Florence 
and Naples, and those of the Louvre and Luxembourg 
at Paris, are all thrown open to him with a cheerful, 
whole-souled liberality that removes from the mind cf 
the most timid stranger every feeling of embarrassment. 
He is, indeed, every where treated with a courtesy and 
kindness to which he had been wholly unaccustomed at 
home ; and in view of such generosity and kind patron- 
age, one might reasonably suppose that a mind ingenu- 
ous and refined would, from its own instinct, surmount 
the narrow prejudices of a false education, and instead 
of abusing his unsuspecting benefactors, and calling 
them rascals, would rather believe, and take a noble 
pride in declaring, that they had been grossly misrep- 
resented and calumniated. 

Speaking of monks, I will relate a story of one I met 
during a visit to Europe in the year 1842. 

STORY OF A FRIAK. 

On board the steamboat from Marseilles to Civita 
Vecchia, I made the acquaintance of a travelling friar of 
the order of St. Francis. However, from his appearance, 
no one would ever have taken him for a friar of any 
order. For, in the first place, he was very diminutive 
in size, and exceedingly thin, evidently a spare eater. 
And then his dress denoted poverty. He did not wear 
the habit of his order, but for certain reasons, of which 
the reader shall be duly informed, was disguised as a lay 
citizen. His dress consisted of an old black frock coat 
much too large for him, and which might once have 



FLORENCE. 157 

pertained to a portly dandy. His pantaloons were of 
cotton that had been white, but now were parti-colored, 
except from the knees downward, whence from light 
gray they gradually dissolved into black about the an- 
kles, where they were turned up a couple of inches. 
On his feet were thick brogues, and on his head a cloth 
cap, which I should think once belonged to a boy. The, 
first time I encountered him, was in the church of 
St. Augustine, near the port of Marseilles. I was much 
struck with his devotion and fervor, as, on his knees, he 
ofifered up his prayers before an image of the Blessed 
Virgin, and then taking a small coin from his pocket, 
crossed himself with it, and dropped it into the box. A 
beggar woman, who witnessed the act, followed him out 
of the church with a babe in her arms, and two ill-clad 
girls at her heels, and importuned him for charity. He 
said a few words to her, and seemed to give implicit 
credit to her tale of woe, for he conducted them all into 
a shop, and as I passed the window a few moments after, 
I saw him at the counter paying for their refreshments. 
When, a day or two after this, I went on board the 
steamer for Civita Vecchia, who should be on the deck 
but the queer-looking little man who had so kindly min- 
istered to the beggar family. I soon made his acquaint- 
ance, for I felt curious to know more about him. In a 
short time I had learned his history. It was short and 
simple. He was a Spaniard, born in Madrid, at a time 
when his country was rent by civil dissensions, and in- 
vaded by the opposing armies of England and of 
France. His father had been a distinguished oificer in 
the royal army of Spain, and had fought in the Penin- 
sular war against the forces of Napoleon I. When the 
French held possession of Madrid, his father was arrest- 
14 



158 STORY OP A FEIAR. 

ed, his property confiscated, and he was thrown into 
prison, where he languished and died. He left but the 
one son, who, having already lost his mother, was thrown 
upon the world without fortune and without iriends ; 
for who, in such times, would have the courage to be- 
friend the son of a proscribed royalist ? 

The young man had received a religious education, 
and in the hour of adversity remembered the counsels 
of his mother, who, on her death bed, exhorted him to 
be always faithful to God, and if suffering or poverty 
ever befell him, to seek for consolation in religion. 
Wandering about the streets of Madrid, weary and hun- 
gry, seeking for employment and fi.nding none, he be- 
thought him to while away the time by reciting a rosa- 
ry. While thus engaged with his beads, as he was 
passing the door of a famous convent, the dying words 
of his mother sounded in his ears, as if she were 
then addressing him. At the same instant the massive 
,portal of the convent opened, and two venerable fathers, 
with shaven heads and brown habits encircled by cords, 
slowly issued forth for their daily walk. In a moment 
the youth had formed his resolution, and crossing the 
area in front of the convent, met the fathers before they 
had descended the steps. In a few words he told his 
simple tale, and with many tears announced his desire 
to escape the snares and temptations of the world, and 
to consecrate himself to God in a religious life. He 
was then but fourteen years of age. One of the monksj 
as it happened, ^vas the father provincial, who had 
long known and respected the boy's father. He con- 
sented to receive the young man on probation. Soon 
after he was sent to college, and having completed his 
education, was received into the order and ordained 



FLOBENCE. 



16^ 



priest. He remained always attached to the same mon- 
astery, and there had passed the greatest portion and 
the happiest of his life. He had no cares, no wants, no 
disappointments. To say his prayers, to celebrate mass, 
and to obey his superiors, — this was his world, his earth- 
ly heaven. 

But, alas ! his happiness and peace of mind were 
doomed to be suddenly and terribly blighted. Espar- 
tero had usurped the government of Spain, a man as 
destitute of justice and humanity as he was of religion. 
Under his cruel and rapacious despotism convents and 
monasteries were suppressed and pillaged throughout the 
kingdom, and their treasures, revenues, and estates were 
seized and sold to feed his cupidity. Our poor friar, 
with thousands more, was driven from the home of his 
choice and affections, and once more he found himself 
in the streets of Madrid, and at the age of forty years 
an outcast upon a strange and unfeeling world. But 
this was not the end. The friars, wherever discovered, 
were compelled to leave their country, and take refuge 
in foreign lands. Our friar was too artless and inexpe- 
rienced to know how to conceal himself from observa- 
tion ; so he procured from some charitable Christian the 
disguise in which I saw him, and made his way to Mar- 
seilles, mostly on foot, with the intention of visiting 
Rome, in order to know of the father general of the 
Franciscans, what he would have him to do. 

Such had been the history of my travelling compan- 
ion, for whom now I began to feel not only a deep in- 
terest, but also a sincere affection. Yet, by his simplici- 
ty, and ignorance of men and things in general, he 
caused me infinite diversion. I could not help laughing 
at him, good and amiable, as he was. Indeed, he often 



160 STORY OF A FRIAE. 

joined in the laugh himself, particularly after the oc- 
casion of it had passed. He had never before been in 
a boat of any kind, nor beheld the sea ; and therefore 
every strange noise or unusual movement on board the 
steamer alarmed him. If the wind puffed a little 
stronger than usual, he would grasp a rope, or the rim 
of a cask, or what came first to hand, and stoop down 
so as nearly to sit upon the deck, and then would open his 
mouth as though for breath, and usually would contrive 
to get on a little trig pair of spectacles, and in that posture 
would turn round and round to look for and await the re- 
sult. If the breeze continued piping for some minutes, 
so as to cause an unusual heave or roll of the vessel, he 
would stagger to some shelter, and crossing himself de- 
voutly, would repeat his prayers, pausing at intervals to 
swallow, and then recommence with augmented vigor. 
Having but little money to spend, he had taken a deck 
passage, and slept in the forecastle, a dirty, confined 
place, that smelt strongly of bilge water. However, he 
only occupied this place for one night, for on the second 
day he discovered a poor man who had no berth at all, 
and so he gave up his berth to the other, and during 
the residue of the voyage he lay all night on deck, ex- 
posed to the wind and rain. 

He was, and with reason, greatly shocked, considering 
the wretchedness of his accommodations, to say nothing 
of his poverty, when the steward of the boat had the 
audacity, on arriving at Civita Vecchia, to demand of 
him a recompense, or "pour boire." For what, in the 
name of goodness ? Perhaps for not having mixed 
poison with his broth, or pushed him overboard. It 
would be hard to say what other claim the fellow had 
upon the gratitude of the poor friar. 



FLORENCE. 161 

He related Ms trouble to me, and said he had given 
the man half a franc, but that he was not satisfied. I 
told him not to trouble himself about it — that he had 
given enough, and need not have given one sous. Poor 
creature ! his troubles had but just begun. In a tew 
minutes he was obliged to pay twenty sous for having 
himself and baggage conveyed to the shore ; then 
thirty sous for having it conveyed to the police office ; 
and twenty more for having all his clothes and papers 
overhauled by the officers. At this last charge he could 
scarcely contain. It was full bad enough to behold the 
derangement and public exposure of his efiects, but to 
be obliged to reward the official that did it — it was too 
much. Anger for the first time flashed from his eye, 
and quivered on his lip. But he did contain. He 
signed himself with the sign of the cross, and was silent ; 
then sadly and calmly lifted his purse as though cal- 
culating its weight, and turning to me expressed his 
fears that it would not suffice for the accomplishment of 
his journey. A large part of the time he appeared ab- 
sorbed in meditation or prayer, but was obliged at 
times, however reluctantly, to force himself back to 
earthly considerations. Once, on entering the diligence, 
he had lost his purse,'but he found it again; then his 
passport, which he did not find. At another time he 
lost his hat, at another his cloak, at another his snuff 
box, and found them all. He was always the last out 
of the coach and the last in, and appeared often search- 
ing among the cushions and seats, as though to find 
something. Once or twice he came near being lost him- 
self, or left behind. 

O, what a fine fish would this good friar be for some 
of our travelling anglers ! With what glistening eyes 
14* 



162 STORY OP A FEIAR. 

and watering moutlis would they bait their hooks ! 
With what eager excitement would they throw their 
lines, in the expectation of catching him, and troll them 
when they felt the bite ! He would be sent home to 
America, and served up whole, with plenty of trim- 
mings, stuffing, and spices, prepared to order, and ex- 
hibited as a fair specimen of the pikes — of the priests, 
I mean — of Europe. 

Then we should be treated with a lecture upon priest- 
hood, and a priest-ridden people, and vice, and immo- 
rality, and the ignorance of the .Catholic clergy ; where- 
as the truth is, that our friar is nothing more than what 
he pretends to be ; and that is, a poor, inoffensive 
Franciscan friar. He has no ambition, no aspirations 
for the honors and riches of this world ; he desires only 
to lay up a treasure in heaven. He has therefore taken 
a vow of poverty, and spends his days in laboring for 
his salvation, and for the salvation of others. Let those 
who are more useful than he, or merit more the appro- 
bation of their conscience, or the favor of God, cast the 
first stone at him. 

The poor friar felt very sad when I parted with him, 
and came several times to see me at my lodgings, after 
which I neither saw nor heard from him for three or 
four weeks, when one day, as I returned to my lodgings 
from a walk, the children of the house came rushing 
into my room, full of delight, jabbering Italian, jump- 
ing and dancing, and making all manner of gesticula- 
tions. " Heyday ! " said I ; " what have we here ? " 
I followed the children into the kitchen, and there I per- 
ceived a stranger, a poor old Franciscan friar, with a bald 
head, in the usual dress of the order, which is a coarse 
brown cassock, so coarse that the alms people of our 



FLORENCE. 163 

country would feel insulted to be presented with a coat 
of the same ; some thick pieces of leather on the soles 
of his feet, strapped over his toes by a narrow thong ; a 
rope wound twice round his waist, and the ends hanging 
nearly to his feet ; and a large chaplet, with a crucifix 
attached, secured to his cincture. Hats they never wear, 
not even in the streets. These observations I took be- 
fore I reached the kitchen door. Just then the old man 
appeared suddenly to renew his youth. He sprang 
from his chair, ran across the kitchen, seized and shook 
me by the hand as though he would never release me. 
Of course I then recognized him as my little travelling 
friar, completely metamorphosed, not in looks merely, 
but in feeling. He was happy, and gay as a lark. He 
accompanied me to my room, talking the whole time as 
fast as possible, not one fifth part of which could I under- 
stand. But the substance of it was, that he was now 
fixed in a monastery, that he felt perfectly happy, and 
wished to see me to let me know it, and to learn how 
I did, and when and where I was going, &c., &c. After 
a winged conversation of half an hour, he was frightened 
that he had staid so long, and taking his leave, he went 
out as hastily as he had entered, but stopping every few 
steps to shake me warmly by the hand, and to say another 
last word. 

A few days after, he called again to bid me a last 
adieu. He was to leave the following day, by order of 
his superiors. Whither he goes I know not ; perhaps 
to be martyred in a distant land. May it be well with 
thee, good friar. I shall never see thee again in this 
world, though I should be glad to. Poor friar ! how 
they would treat thee in Boston, my own beloved city ! 
They would pelt thee with eggs and mud, wert thou to 



164 CHARIOT RACE. 

show thyself as thou didst last to me. Wherever thou 
goest, God bless thee, friar. 

We considered it a fortunate circumstance to have 
been in Florence on the festival of St. John the Baptist. 
It is one of the greatest festivals of the year among the 
Florentines, as St. John is their patron saint. On the 
eve of the feast there is always a chariot race, a remnant 
of the ancient Etruscan games. The exhibition took 
place as usual in the piazza of Santa Maria Novella. 
The square was surrounded with rows of seats, tier 
above tier, in the manner of an amphitheatre. These 
seats were let for about sixpence each, and were soon 
all taken. At each end of the piazza was a column, 
connected by a rope, its centre being held up by six 
men dressed in ancient costumes. Around these col- 
umns was the course. At the foot of the scaffoldings 
were posted bodies of cavahy and infantry. At the up- 
per end of the piazza was the royal box, elegantly deco- 
rated. It contained the grand duke, his consort, and 
the royal children, besides ambassadors and ministers of 
foreign courts, and other strangers of distinction, with 
their families. All the windows, balconies, and even 
roofs of the surrounding houses, were crowded with 
spectators. There must have been from ten to fifteen 
thousand individuals, spectators of the races. The 
chariots were four in number, and the charioteers were 
arrayed in ancient costume. At a given signal thej'' all 
started off, with a prodigious racket. They passed sev- 
eral times around the course, when, the one that was 
victorious having received a long and tremendous shout 
of applause, all was ended, and the spectators retired 
without further noise or confusion to their homes. I 
was particularly struck and gratified at witnessing the 



FLOEENCE. 165 

perfect good order, and good nature too, that prevailed 
among this multitude of people. It was infinitely the 
most interesting part of the exhibition. While the race 
continued, they were frequently pressed back by the 
guards, and almost trampled on by the multitudes of 
horses, but not an angry word did I hear, nor an impa- 
tient remonstrance. As for drunkenness, I dki not see 
an intoxicated man during the whole day, and I do not 
believe there was one on the race ground. When the 
hour for retiring arrived, you would have thought the 
people were returning rather from church than from a 
frolic. 

In the evening there was to have been an illumination 
of the Arno, and of some of the principal squares, streets, 
and public buildings, and also a display of fireworks from 
one of the bridges ; but a terrible squall of wind, which 
came in the morning like a thunderbolt, and blew like a 
hurricane, demolished the scaffoldings that had been a 
week in building, and overthrew and shattered so large a 
portion of the lamps, that both designs were necessarily 
abandoned. The cathedral, however, was illuminated, 
from the cross on the dome to the foundation, and made 
a magnificent appearance. The Baptistery, the Palazzo 
Vecchio, and some other public buildings were also illu- 
minated, all externally, and the effect was very fine. I 
think that of the antique tower of the Palazzo was one 
of the finest I have ever seen. The streets were crowd- 
ed with persons of all classes till near midnight, and the 
order and sobriety that reigned among them was equal 
to that of the afternoon. As we were returning to our 
delightful lodgings on the banks of the Arno, we met 
vast numbers of the inhabitants, of both sexes, quietly 
seeking their homes. Many of the ladies were unat- 



166 ST. John's day. 

tended, except by tlieir little children, whom they were 
leading by the hand, feeling apparently as secure as if 
under the protection of their husbands. 

The next day being the festival of St. John the Bap- 
tist, we assisted at High Mass at the cathedral. Solemn 
High Mass was celebrated by the Archbishop of Flor- 
ence. Tihe students of the diocesan seminary were in 
the choir. The ceremonies were, as usual, very impos- 
ing, and the music of a superior character. There were 
two choirs, each of which was accompanied by an organ^ 
and a martial band. The royal family were present, and 
seated under a canopy within the sanctuary. The im- 
mense temple was crowded to oppression, and we were 
greatly edified by the recollection and devotion of the 
assistants. The residue of the day appeared to be 
passed in festivities, in making and receiving visits, in 
walking in the public gardens, and in riding about in 
carriages ; all, however, without riot or noisy dis- 
sipation. All were in holiday dresses, and every 
street of the city teemed with gayety and joy. In the 
afternoon, about five o'clock, nearly the whole popula- 
tion of Florence directed their course towards the Corso, 
the longest street in the city, in order to witness the 
race, which always takes place on this day, of horses with- 
out riders. Scaffoldings were erected on each side for 
the accommodation of spectators, provided with seats, 
one of which I secured for myself. Crowds innumera- 
ble thronged the street throughout its whole extent, and 
two lines of coaches and chariots were incessantly pass- 
ing and repassing very slowly, one directly behind the 
other. These carriages were of every variety of ap- 
pearance, and contained every sort of people, from the 
humblest mechanic to the grand duke himself and fami- 



FLORENCE. 167 

ly. All enjoyed equal rights. The grand duke's fami- 
ly, with their suites, occupied eight coaches, each drawn 
by six horses elegantly caparisoned. Each coach had 
a driver, postilions, and from two to four footmen, 
in liveries. That of the grand duke was preceded by 
two men on foot, with long batons, and two or three 
horsemen, and followed by the royal body guard, a no- 
ble troop of horse. They passed up and down three 
times, the duke and family constantly occupied in re- 
turning the salutes of the people. 

At length the signal was given for the race, and the 
street was immediately cleared of carriages. The crowds 
on foot, however, to my astonishment, proportionally 
augmented, and the street was literally choked with the 
multitude. I was deeply occupied in speculating how 
and when it would be cleared to enable the race to take 
place, when suddenly there rose a deafening shout from 
thousands of throats, and the multitude at the same time 
pressed from the centre towards either side of the street, 
leaving an opening or pathway of some eight or ten feet, 
and six horses, without riders or bridles, or trappings 
of any kind, were seen coming at the top of their speed, 
foaming at the mouth, and apparently half mad with 
terror. Narrow strips of leather were fastened over 
their backs, to which were secured sharp points like spurs, 
so contrived that the faster they ran the more acute was the 
pain ; so that they were constantly urged forward both by 
the spurs and the shouts of the people, till at the end of 
the course they were stopped by men holding canvas 
across the road. One was considerably in advance of 
the others when they passed me, and I believe he was 
the victorious horse, which was afterwards marched in 
triumph about the streets. The others followed at short 



168 HORSE RACING. 

intervals, occasionally passing and repassing one another. 
As I feared would be the case, several persons, in con- 
sequence of their too great eagerness to be as near as 
possible to the horses, were thrown upon the pavement 
and severely injured, though I believe no one was killed. 
Immediately after the race, all quietly retired. 

I have described this horse race, not because I either 
enjoyed it or approved of it, but because it was to me a 
very novel sight, and because I have undertaken to 
describe what I saw in Florence, and should not feel 
justified in suppressing even what might give an unfa- 
vorable opinion of the polished gravity of the Floren- 
tines. The custom of horse racing on St. John's day 
is sanctioned by immemorial usage, and throughout 
Italy they know of no other mode of doing it than that 
above described. 

With reluctance I bade adieu to Florence — la hella 
Firenze. I could well say, with Dr. Johnson, changing 
the application, " If I had no duties to perform in this 
world, and no other one to prepare for," I would love to 
pass the residue of my days under its brilliant sky, and 
among its happy and lively people, who, surely, ought 
to be the most thankful people on the face of the earth. 
But, alas ! the appreciation of such blessings can only 
come from comparison ; and, I doubt not, they complain 
of this poor world of ours as much, after all, as other 
people. Sometimes it rains, and then they murmur at 
the wet and mud ; sometimes it shines, and then they 
complain of the heat ; if crops fall short, buyers growl 
at the dearness of provisions ; if abundant, sellers can 
scarcely earn a subsistence. Thus are we all alike, un- 
der whatever sky, in whatever clime — under an empire, 
a monarchy, or a republic. 



GENOA. 169 



CHAPTER VIII. 

GENOA — LEGHORN — PISA. 
GENOA. 

Genoa, sm-named " the Proud," is one of the most 
beautiful of the maritime cities of Italy. It reclines 
upon the acclivity of a mountain, in the form of an amphi- 
theatre. The view of it from the sea is certainly splendid. 
The city, with its beautiful palaces and churches, the 
two walls, which protect it from incursions from land, 
of which one is three and the other eighteen miles long, 
and the sombre aspect of the mountains behind it, form 
all together a most magnificent perspective. The streets 
are for the most part very narrow, and cannot fail to 
disappoint those who have seen the city from the bay. 
There are, however, a few streets wide, straight, and 
handsomely paved, and fianked on either side by beauti- 
ful mansions. While strolling along in one of the prin- 
cipal streets, we met a clergyman, who immediately 
recognized and saluted us. It was the priest who, as 
chaplain of the Sardinian frigate San Giovanni, visited 
Boston three years ago. Guided by him, we visited the 
principal churches and palaces. He also .presented us 
to the archbishop, Monsignore Charvasse, who received 
us with great kindness. He is evidently a man of great 
learning, extensive information, and unaffected piety, 
and was quite conversant with affairs in the United 
States. 

The cathedral church is in the Gothic style of archi- 
tecture, and massive. It is lined within and without 
15 



170 PUBLIC BUILDINGS. 

with rich black and white marble. The churches and 
palaces, several of which we yisited, are particularly 
splendid and gorgeous. Into one of the palaces we en- 
tered through a cluster of grottos, in each of which foun- 
tains played, and mineral waters showered from the 
vaulted roofs. Stalactites depended from above and 
shot up from beneath. We walked over pavements 
made of pebbles from the sea, and in the fountains were 
gold and silver fish innumerable, sporting. There were 
statues, too, made of various colored stones, put together 
with admirable skill and ingenuity. We strolled through 
extensive gardens, where orange trees groaned under the 
weight of their golden fruit, and laurestinas and other 
flowering trees bloomed in abundance. A vast cage of 
wire, capacious as a dwelling house, contained many 
varieties of singing birds, who chirped among the 
branches as cheerily as in their tiative plains. 

The palace of Brignole contains many rich paintings, 
some of which are from the pencil of Vandyke, Guido, 
Rubens, Correggio, and Carlo Dolce. In the palace royal 
we saw some splendid paintings by Vandyke, Kubens, 
Titian, and others. But that which is said to take pre- 
cedence of all others in Genoa, is the Magdalene at the 
feet of our Saviour, by Paul Veronese. 

The Church of the Annunciation is said to be a mas- 
terpiece of taste and elegance. Its interior is decorated 
with Ionic columns of white marble, the flutings of 
which are incrusted with red marble. 

The university is a magnificent building. At the en- 
trance are two marble lions of mammoth size, and said 
to be of most perfect execution. The paintings, frescoes, 
and statues of bronze, with which it is decorated, ar? 
highly esteemed. 



LEGHORN. 171 

The poorliouse, or the Alhergo dei Poveri, is said to 
be the most magnificent institution of its kind in Europe. 
It was founded in 1650 by a nobleman of the family of 
Brignole, to afford an asylum for those whom age or 
other unavoidable circumstances had reduced to poverty. 
It is capable of containing two thousand individuals. 
The inmates are kept constantly employed at snch occu- 
pations as are suitable to their strength, age, and sex. 
Attached to it is a church, with seats on one side for 
the males, on the opposite for the females, and a large 
space in front for a miscellaneous congregation. Here 
there is a beautiful bass-relief by Michael Angelo, rep- 
resenting the Blessed Virgin supporting the inanimate 
body of her Son. With the general appearance of the 
inmates of this establishment I was much gratified. 
They appeared orderly, industrious, happy, and clean. 

The hospital of incurables contained eight hundred 
patients, arranged in single beds in very long halls, 
attended as usual by Sisters of Charity. There are nu- 
merous other charitable institutions in Genoa, but during 
my short stay I was unable to visit them. I did not en-» 
counter a single beggar, 

LEGHORN. 

There is little to be seen here but an active, thriving, 
business population, who trouble themselves about little 
else than to buy and sell and get gain. The population 
is about seventy-five thousand, one fifth of which, it is 
computed, are Jews. Leghorn has arisen to its present 
size and opulence since the beginning of the fifteenth 
century, at which time it was but a small village, with- 
out wealth or commerce. It owes its present prosperity 



172 CATHEDEAL. 

to the family of the Medici, who fortified it, and gave 
it such advantages in the way of trade as to allure to 
her ports merchants and traders from all parts of the 
world. Montesquieu has called Leghorn the " master- 
piece " of the Medicis, The only objects of curiosity 
that I saw were a marble statue of Ferdinand I., and 
near it four gigantic bronze statues, representing four 
African slaves, naked, and of different ages. The ex- 
pression of grief and resignation depicted on their 
countenances is truly admirable. Universal toleration 
is extended to the inhabitants, whatever the sect or reli- 
gion. The English have a fine cemetery here, but I did 
not see it. One thing worthy of remark — in Leghorn 
I saw no beggars. The people all look tidy and cheer- 
ful. I saw no dirty, ragged, idle boys ; every child was 
decently clad, and none even barefooted. 

PISA. 

There being little of consequence to see in Leghorn, 
we took a coach and went to Pisa, for the purpose of 
seeing the cathedral, and celebrated leaning tower, for 
which this town is at the present day chiefiy remarkable. 
Pisa stands on the banks of the Arno, about fourteen 
miles from Leghorn. Though once a powerful commer- 
cial and warlike city, both the terror and the scourge of 
the Saracens and African corsairs, and numbering one 
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, it at present con- 
tains but eighteen thousand. The streets are large, and 
handsome, and well paved, and the quay is said to be 
one of the finest in Europe. 

The Duomo, or cathedral, is in the shape of a Latin 
cross. It was erected so long since as the eleventh cen- 



PISA. 173 

tury, and is one of the finest churches I have seen. The 
interior is decorated with seventy-four lofty and magnifi- 
cent columns. The high altar is very splendid, and 
adorned with lapis lazuli, verd antique, &c. 

The Baptistery, erected in the twelfth century, is an 
octagon of white marble. The interior resembles an 
ancient temple. Twelve arches, supported by eight vast 
columns of Sardinian granite, and four pilasters of white 
marble, serve as the base to a second row of pilasters, on 
which rests the cupola. The font is adorned with beau- 
tiful Mosaics. •• 

The Campanile, or leaning tower, erected also in the 
twelfth century, is of a circular form, nearly one hun- 
dred and ninety feet in height. Its declination is thir- 
teen feet. It consists of eight stories, adorned with two 
hundred and seven columns of granite and precious 
marbles. Most critical travellers at the present day en- 
tertain the opinion that this tower was originally built 
erect, and has settled to one side by the gradual yielding 
of the earth. It is certainly an object of great interest, 
and I would not have failed to have seen it. I ascended 
to the highest story, from which I had a magnificent 
view — though one must have a strong nerve to contem- 
plate it, and look from this summit, particularly on the 
leaning side, without giddiness. 

The Campo Santo, or ancient burial ground, is the 
most beautiful building at Pisa. It is a vast rectangle, 
surrounded by sixty-two elegant Gothic arcades of white 
marble, with a pavement of the same. The celebrated 
Lanfranc brought to Pisa a large quantity of earth from 
Mount Calvary, and deposited it on the spot round 
which these arcades are built. The present structure 
was finished in 1283. The walls are covered with fres- 
15* 



174 COMPANIONS IN DILIGENCE. 

coes of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. There 
are some fine churches in Pisa, but we had no time to 
visit them, as we were obhged to return to Leghorn in 
season for the boat. • 



NAPLES. 

Once in Rome, a trip to Naples is a matter of course. 
It is usual for travellers to have extraordinary compan- 
ions in the diligence. In conformity with custom, I 
must proceed to describe mine. The first was a huge 
German baron, a gentleman at least six feet in height, 
and perhaps nine in circumference, and learned, amiable, 
and polite in proportion ; the second was the baron's 
secretary, very affable and talkative, well skilled in Ital- 
ian and French. The secretary Avas capital at making 
bargains, and understood all the arts and knaveries of 
cicerones and all that class of individuals, and he afford- 
ed vast amusement in his manner of dealing with them. 
The third was also a priest and a Neapolitan. He was a 
professor of theology. The piety and amiableness that 
beamed from his countenance were equally manifest in 
his conduct and conversation. The languages spoken 
among us were as numerous as the individuals. My friend 
and I, of course, conversed in English ; the baron and his 
secretary, in German ; the secretary and professor, in 
Italian ; the baron and we Americans, in French ; and 
finally, the baron and professor in Latin. At times, par- 
ticularly at meals, there was a very Babel among us. 

We passed over the Pontine Marshes during the night 
They were dismal enough. The second day we passed 
fine fields of wheat, orange groves, and vineyards miles 
in extent. The vines are trained upon trees about ten or 



NAPLES. 175 

I 
twelve feet apart, and hang in clustered festoons from tree 
to tree. We arrived in Naples about four o'clock, in the 
midst of a violent storm of rain. The pleasure of hav- 
ing ended our journey was somewhat damped by the 
thought of parting with our kind and intelligent friends ; 
for friends we could truly call them, though we had 
known them but three days, so exceedingly attentive to 
us had they been through the entire journey. The baron 
gave us his address, and invited us to call at his lodg- 
ings, and the professor insisted on our coming to his 
house as soon as possible, and after shaking us warmly 
by the hand three or four times, bade us an affectionate 
adieu. We took comfortable lodgings at the hotel, 
where we remained during our stay in Naples, and were 
perfectly satisfied with the lodgings, ,the price, the ser- 
vants, the quietness and order of the house, its situation, 
indeed, with every thing about it. 

The second day after our arrival we called upon our 
friends the baron and the professor. The former was, as 
before, urbane and affable, and received us with the cor- 
diality of an old acquaintance, and invited us to join 
him and the secretary in an excursion to Vesuvius, and 
also to Baia, which we gladly accepted, and appointed 
the day for the first excursion. Afterwards, we called 
at the professor's house, and received a welcome and a 
treatment as unassuming and kind as it was unexpected. 
If the baron greeted us as a friend and acquaintance, 
the professor received us as a brother. He gave us 
much useful information, and suggested many objects to 
be seen, which othervv'ise we might have missed, and 
entreated us to call on him, while in Naples, for any as- 
sistance of which we might be in need. We were charmed 
with our visit, and repeated it several times, and always 



176 PREACHING. 

found liim tlie same, and lie seemed greatly disappointed 
when he found we had the intention of tarrying so short 
a time. One Sunday I had the pleasure of hearing him 
preach. It was in the afternoon, and I w'as looking for 
a church. Seeing a crowd of people entering one, and 
some of them stopping to read an advertisement on the 
door, I also read it. It was a printed notice that a sermon 
was to be preached in that church by " il Reverendissimo 
Signore D. Raffaele Coppola, maestro in Sacra Theolo- 
gia." I entered, and who should the preacher be but 
my good and affable friend the professor ? To my sur- 
prise, he wore over the surplice a purple cape, around 
his neck a rich gold chain, from which depended a pec- 
toral cross, and on his finger a ring adorned with a 
brilliant gem. I was surprised indeed, for he was 
dressed as a bishop. I afterwards inquired if he were 
a bishop, but was told no, but that he held a high eccle- 
siastical rank, which in Naples entitled him to these 
ornftments. His text was, " His name shall be called 
Jesus ; " the subject of the discourse, the holy name of 
Jesus. The preacher, like the Italians in general, was 
all fire and force ; and, if I could judge aught from the 
deep interest and devout feeling manifested by the hear- 
ers, his sermon was admirable. The audience was large 
and of the first respectability, mostly composed of gen- 
tlemen. After the services were ended, many remained 
upon their knees in prayer or meditation, both males and 
females. One poor old woman, kneeling near the door, 
made manifest her feelings by audible sighs and ejacula- 
tions, which spoke more emphatically in praise of the 
discourse than all the encomiums that language could 
frame. As I passed her, I perceived that she was in 
tears, smiting her breast, and saying, " Jesus ! my 



NAPLES. 177 

Jesus ! Saviour ! my Saviour ! blessed, sweet Jesus ! 
Have mercy on a poor sinner." I passed on with the 
crowd, but I shall never forget the poor old woman, for 
I was much edified and affected. 

One of our first promenades, after our arrival in Na- 
ples, was along the quay, in order to catch a distant view 
of Mount Vesuvius. There it was in all its grandeur, 
vomiting forth that eternal column of smoke ; and as I 
stood contemplating it, I remembered well the feelings 
with which, many and many a time while a boy, I had 
read and heard of that same Vesuvius, and of its dread- 
ful eruptions, and of the destruction of Pompeii and 
Herculaneum, and had in imagination seen the fiery 
floods, and the ashes, and the darkness, and felt the trem- 
bling of the earth, and fled with the terrified inhabitants. 
Little did I then think that these eyes would ever be- 
hold that mount, or these feet stand on flags of that lava 
that had buried Herculaneum ; yet here I was, traversing 
streets entirely paved with that same lava, and there, di- 
rectly before me, in solemn grandeur, stood that same 
mountain caldron that had boiled over and ejected it. 
The evening was warm, and the sky serene and almost 
cloudless ; and desirous of seeing the bay and mountain 
to greater advantage, we stepped* into a boat, and bade 
the boatman row us off for one hour. We glided softly 
over the glassy surface of the bay for that space of time, 
and then, having turned our boat's head towards Naples, 
we contemplated the scene before us with sentiments of 
admiration altogether indescribable. The sun was just 
setting in all that blaze of splendor so peculiar to an 
Italian sunset. There were a few long, narrow strips 
of cloud above the horizon, just sufficient to catch and 
retain the richest of his tints. The deep colorings and 



178 THE BAY OF NAPLES. 

changing hues that melted one into the other, and cast 
their declining radiance on the bosom of the waters, 
and the peculiar transparency of the deep blue vault 
above, convinced me of that which before I never be- 
lieved — that in an Itahan sky and sunset there is some- 
thing surpassingly beautiful, and such as is never 
witnessed elsewhere. The sunset, however, was not all. 
We were in the Bay of Naples, the most magnificent in 
the world. Before us was that vast and beautiful city 
itself, numbering four hundred thousand inhabitants, 
forming a splendid amphitheatre. Its elegant quay, its 
castles, its palaces, its domes and minarets, fringed with 
sunset hues, afforded a spectacle of extraordinary beauty. 
On the right, at the distance of about six miles, rose 
Vesuvius, the sun shining on its summit, and reddening 
with a fiery glow the volumes of smoke that were rolling 
perpendicularly from its mysterious crater. On the wide- 
extended plain at its foot, and within sight, lay those 
hapless cities that have so often and so fatally witnessed 
its terrible and devastating eruptions. There was Torre 
del Greco, that about fifty years surce was completely 
buried with lava, and Portici, and Resini, and Torre del 
Annunciata. There also were Herculaneum and Pom- 
peii, whose sad histor^^ is but too well known to all. On 
the left rose the craggy promontory of Posilipo, and 
farther distant that of Miseno, and the towns of Pozzuoli 
and Baia. There were also in view the islands of Ischia 
and Procida, and Capri and Nisida. All was classic 
ground, and each spot remarkable for some heroic 
achievement, or venerable association of a people long 
since extinct. We glided homeward in silence, and 
the regular stroke of the oars beat time to our medita- 
tions. About an hour after sunset we landed on the 
quay. 



NAPLES. 179 

Naples is nine miles in circumference, contains nearly 
four hundred thousand inhabitants, and is decidedly the 
merriest city I was ever in. It is all gayety and amuse- 
ment. No one appears to feel any anxiety for the future, 
but, from the king to the beggar, to confine all his soli- 
citudes to the present moment. All classes are evidently 
fond of being seen, and of seeing, too, all they can. 
They are constantly in the streets. The very houses look 
bright and merry. The windows are filled with fiowers, 
and young men and maidens adorn the balconies. The 
Neapolitans are passionately fond of music, and the most 
harmonious strains continually strike the ear, both within 
doors and without. Add to this an ever cloudless sky, — 
and such a sky ! — and Naples may be regarded as the most 
luxurious city of Europe. Still, however, notwithstanding 
the frivolity and gayety to which it cannot be denied that 
the Neapolitans are attached, there is much deep and 
fervent piety. The churches I found daily crowded with 
worshippers, whose devotion was most edifying and 
touching, and the fervency of which was only equalled 
by its simplicity and freedom from ostentation. It is, 
however, in the small or retired churches where you 
chiefly behold this devotion and zeal for religion, not 
in those mostly frequented by strangers, whose gaping 
curiosity and heedless conduct are so revolting to true 
piety, that it flees the places where it is thus offended, 
and seeks for itself other retreats, where, undisturbed, 
and if possible unnoticed, it may commune with God. 

Perhaps if there is any mark more unerring than others 
ot true religion, it is charity ; and of all charity, that 
which is purest, and most evidently not earth-born, is that 
which seeks out the poor, and distressed, and sick, and 
without looking for a temporal reward, administers to 



180 



LAZAEONI. 



their wants. In this most excellent virtue the Neapolitans 
stand preeminent. Distress cannot and does not exist in 
Naples. There is established, and on the broadest basis 
of humanity, an asylum or hospital for every class of 
mankind, and for every misfortune or infirmity to which 
man is liable. True, there are beggars, and travellers 
often petulantly complain of it ; but beggars are toler- 
ated, and they form a distinct, and to the good natured 
Neapolitans, almost a necessary class in the population. 
But they are not numerous. I was in Naples two weeks, 
and was asked alms but two or three times. The people 
of Naples, like those of Rome, and many other Catholic 
cities, love to see beggars, and they will have them, too. 
It is one of their pleasures to give alms ; for with them 
poverty is no crime, no more than it was in the Saviour's 
time, who always spoke kindly to beggars, and never 
reproved them, but gave them frequent alms. But 
the lazaroni ! those forty thousand idle fellows that 
sleep in the streets, and never work, and whom so many 
travellers have described in graphic and thrilling lan- 
guage ! The reader will doubtless be surprised when 
I inform him that the story of the lazaroni is all a fic- 
tion ; that there is no such class in Naples, and never 
was. As far as my own observation extended, there 
were fewer indigent pei'sons, fewer beggars, fewer idlers, 
in Naples, than in several other cities that I have visited. 
The lower orders are dressed as tidily, to say the least, 
as the same orders in Boston or New York. In one re- 
spect better ; the boys are seldom ragged or barefoot, the 
men and women almost never. The only trait of dishon- 
esty that I remarked, was a propensity among the boys 
to steal pocket handkerchiefs. If you carry your hand- 
kerchief in your pocket, you will be sure to lose it. 



NAPLES. 181 

With this exception, the lower orders of Naples I be- 
lieve to be a class honest, trustworthy, and industrious. 
They are ever gay, witty, and void of care ; they live 
from day to day, without ever thinking of to-morrow. 
They require but little for their nourishment — a plate of 
macaroni and a half pint of wine at noon will render them 
happy for just twenty-four hours. They are uncom- 
monly civil when addressed, and are ever ready to ren- 
der their services, for which a very trifling compensa- 
tion is expected. They are vigorous and healthy, and 
at an early hour the streets resound with their songs. 

It is true the working classes live in great part out 
of doors ; they like the open air. They will sometimes 
take their noon siesta stretched out in the middle of the 
street ; they sleep soundly there as on a bed, and with- 
out the least fear of being run over, as the cartmen 
always turn out for them. One day we saw a man 
asleep in the middle of the street, with the bridle of 
his horse attached to his leg, and another with a yoke 
of oxen attached to him, and attached to the oxen a 
loaded wagon. 

THE TOMB OF VIRGIL. 

We must go and see this relic of antiquity, because 
every body does. It stands on the mountain of Posilipo. 
We ascended by a street zigzag and steep as a stair- 
case, which, indeed, it much resembled, until we reached 
an old garden gate, which was opened by the gardener, 
who immediately conducted us to the tomb. There is 
nothing, however, remarkable in its appearance ; all the 
ornaments with which it was once decorated, even to 
16 



182 GROTTO OF POSILIPO. 

the inscriptions, have been removed and lost ; all that 
is left is a small stone building, the inside lined with 
ancient reticulated work in masonry, and the outside 
covered with ivy and wild flowers. The prospect, 
however, to be seen from the summit, comprising an 
enchanting view of Naples, of Vesuvius, the Medi- 
terranean, and the adjacent country, covered with ver- 
dure, was magnificent beyond description. 

THE GKOTTO OF ?OSILIPO. 

Having descended by another path, we entered and 
passed through this famous grotto, or rather tunnel, that 
has been excavated through the mountain at its foot. 
The author, the age, and the design of this remarkable 
excavation are not known. With regard to the age, it 
existed in the times of the ancient Romans, as it is 
mentioned by Strabo and Seneca. As to the design, 
it is supposed to have been constructed for the same 
purpose for which it is now used, that is, for a public 
road to facilitate intercourse between Naples and the 
towns adjoining. Its length is about three quarters of a 
mile, and its width about twenty feet. Its height 
varies from seventy to twenty-five . feet, it being 
highest at the two entrances to admit light. Light 
is also admitted through two large funnels in the 
vault, notwithstanding which, it was the darkest and 
most fearful looking road I ever passed through. It 
is lighted day and night by street lamps. We found 
it cold and damp, and we were obliged to walk very fast 
for fear of taking cold. The peasants, passing and re- 
passing on asses or in carts, added much to the strange- 



NAPLES. 183 

ness of the place by their shrill and discordant songs, 
and spectral looks and fantastic dresses ; and joyful were 
we to escape from so horrible a prison. 

POMPEII. 

We hired a caleche, and rode amid fields of scoria, and 
piles of lava, and fertile plains, till we reached Pompeii, 
where we alighted at the ustial gate of entrance, and pro- 
cured a guide. The first object that presented itself to 
our attention was a building which had formerly been 
the quarters of E-oman legions. We saw the names of 
the soldiers scribbled on the walls, and could scarcely 
believe that those names were written two thousand years 
ago. We visited the great amphitheatre, with its rows 
of seats, tier above tier, still in fine preservation. It is 
said to have been capable of containing eighteen thou- 
sand people. We then traversed the deserted, but well- 
paved and handsomely-arranged streets, and entered the 
tenantless houses, and gazed on the ruined temples of 
this city of the dead of two thousand years, with feelings 
of sadness and admiration wholly indescribable. The 
houses appeared as though occupied but yesterday ; the 
theatres, as if the gay and thoughtless throng had just 
retired; the temples, as if awaiting the customary sacri- 
fices. In the lava which constituted the pavement of the 
streets were to be seen the very ruts in which the wheels 
of carriages once rolled. There was a tavern also, and 
in the adjacent stables were discovered skeletons of horses 
and rings for fastening them, and also two or three car- 
riages and some pieces of wheel tires. Contiguous are 
eating rooms, in which weie all the necessary append- 
ages of cookery; also a drinking shop, with a stove and 



184 POMPEII. 

a dresser, on which, last still exist the marks of inverted 
glasses. There is the house of a surgeon, in which, 
among other curious objects, were found all sorts of sur- 
gical instruments, some of them very ingeniously con- 
structed, and like those used at the present day. I saw 
them in the museum at Naples. There is also a bakery ; 
in it were found a stable for the donkeys, which were 
blindfolded and employed at the mill ; large quantities 
of corn were also found here. In one of the finest 
streets of the city we were shown the house of Sallust. 
It appears to have been a beautiful residence. A foun- 
tain played in the court, and opposite the door of en- 
trance was a flower garden. The temple of Isis, of Egyp- 
tian construction, is an object of interest. It is about 
sixty-eight feet long by sixty wide, and in good preser- 
vation. In the court is a large altar, whereon was found 
a quantity of cinders and calcined bones of animals. 
Many statues, and vases, and candelabras, &c., were 
found in and about this temple. In one apartment was 
found a small table, near which lay a human skeleton. He 
was perhaps too busily engaged at dinner to heed the awful 
danger that menaced him. By his side were found table 
utensils, chicken bones, bones of fishes, remains of eggs, 
and bread and wine. In a small apartment was found 
another skeleton, with an axe in his hand, leaning against 
the wall. It is supposed that, having remained too long 
in the temple, and finding all egress impossible by the 
accumulation of ashes and stones, he endeavored to hew 
himself a passage out of this apartment. Another skele- 
ton was found, at a little distance from the temple, with 
three or four hundred pieces of money, in gold and sil- 
ver, wrapped in a cloth which had preserved them uniu- 
jured during so many centuries. Not far from this temple 



NAPLES. 185 

was the studio of a sculptor, in which were discovered 
several unfinished and mutilated statues, and blocks of 
marble ; one of the latter was partly sawed through, and 
the saw was found remaining in it. Balls of white marble 
were also found of the size and shape of a hen's egg, 
which were used by the ancients as we now use chalk 
eggs, to keep the hens to their nests. Most of the arti- 
cles, with the tools used in sculpture, many of which 
were found here, may now be seen in the museum at 
Naples. Several of the streets abounded with shops, on 
which are printed the names and occupations of the pro- 
prietors. Many of these, when discovered, were well 
stocked with glass, earthenware, and bronze — among 
which were assortments of cups, saucers, and glasses of 
every description, steelyards, vases, candelabra, and 
lamps, and an infinity of other articles, most of which 
now enrich the Bourbon Museum. 

One reflection struck me forcibly, as I traversed the 
streets and examined the antiquities of Pompeii. It was 
the unchangeableness of these people in their manners 
and habits ; nay, in the very architecture of their dwell- 
ings, and in the shape of their mechanical, household, 
and agricultural implements. Enter a kitchen or shop 
in Naples, and you behold the exact counterpart of those 
of Pompeii. Yet Protestants would fain persuade us that 
this unchangeable and unchanging people, so wedded to 
antiquity that no persuasion can induce them to alter the 
fashion of a plough, or the shape of a lock, or the gear 
of a cart — how great and manifest soever the improve- 
ment — yet that this same people have, to a man, changed 
their religion, the religion to which they had been con- 
verted by the miracles and preaching of the apostles 
themselves ; that they have abandoned a I'eligipfl, qS. a 
16* 



186 BAIA. 

thousand liberties, which gave to each one the right of 
judging for himself in matters of faith and conscience, 
and embraced one of restraint and austerity, and that so 
peaceably and with so little opposition, that all history is 
silent as to the year or even the century when this 
change was made. Why, this one consideration, simple 
as it is in itself, is an irrefragable and most forcible 
proof of the genuineness and the integrity of the Catho- 
lic faith, and that the sincere seeker after primitive Chris- 
tianity may find it here. Every observing traveller, 
whether as a Christian or a philosopher, must acknowl- 
edge the force of this argument. 

BAIA. 

Our next excursion was to Bala and its environs. Our 
companions were the baron and his secretary — the same 
that travelled with us from Rome to Naples. We hired, 
for the occasion, a barouche drawn by three horses. The 
morning was cloudless, and the air warm and balmy. 
We rode along the Chiaia, and through the Grotto of 
Posilipo, which I have already described. We rode 
with the top of our barouche entirely drawn, that we 
might be fanned by the morning breeze, and lose nothing 
of the prospect before us. Having reached the sea, we 
tunned to the right, and rode along its shore ; and 
thoi.gh here the landscape varied, it was not less, inter- 
esting. Before us rose the promontory of Misenus, bold , 
and lofty, on the summit of which once stood a splendid 
villa, occupied by Marius and Lucullus. A little to the 
right was the town of Pozzuoli,* and in its vicinity hills 

* The ancient Puteoli, where St. Paul landed after his shipwreck on the 
island of Malta. 



I 



l^fAPLES. 187 

and dales wliere once lived, and conversed, and studied 
some of tlie greatest men of antiquity — Cicero, and 
Caesar, and Pompey, and Varro, and Hortensius. Be- 
hind us was the rugged promontory of Posilipo ; on 
our right fields and crags of solid lava, which sadly re- 
vealed to us the cause of the abandonment and desola- 
tion of these once celebrated and lovely retreats ; and 
on our left was the sparkling sea, which I loved to gaze 
upon, never wearied with its contemplation, because it 
reminded me of home. 

We stopped at Pozzuoli only long enough to take 
a guide and torches. We passed a formless pile of ruins 
— the only remains of the elegant and classic villa of 
Cicero, where he composed his famous Academics, and 
where died the Emperor Adrian. We passed nearly at 
the base of a remarkable hill, called Monte Nuovo, 
or new mountain. It was formed in 1538, during an 
earthquake, in the short space of thirty-six hours. It is of 
a conical form, about three miles in circumference at the 
base, and now covered with vineyards. The same earth- 
quake that vomited forth this mountain swallowed a 
whole town, with its inhabitants. At the arco felice or 
ancient gate of Cumae, we left the carriage and walked 
by a steep path, through fields and vineyards, to the top 
of the hill on which once stood Cumee, one of the proud- 
est, most opulent and populous cities of the south of 
Italy, presenting now scarce a vestige sufficient to mark 
its site ; for its very ruins have crumbled into dust, and 
not a human being dwells in what were once its walls. 
From the top of this hill we enjoyed an enchanting view 
of the sea and neighboring country. Before us lay the 
shore where J^neas landed to visit the sibyl, whose abode 
was in an enormous and horrid cavern beneath our feet ; 



188 ELYSIAN FIELDS. 

behind us the temple of Apollo, or rather its ruins ; on 
our left the " lighthouse " of Daedalus ; and on the dis- 
tant shore the tower which marks the site of Liternura 
and the burial-place of Scipio Africanus. 

Descending, we resumed our carriage and rode on to 
the Lake Fusaro. This was the Acherusia of the ancients, 
or Acheron, so famous in Greek and Roman mythology. A 
little beyond was the Mare Morto, or dead sea. According 
to the ancients, the pious souls passed over the Acheron, 
on their way to the Elysian Fields, which lie along the 
northern bank of the Mare Mortp. These fields, accord- 
ing to the poets, were once irrigated by numberless 
fountains, were covered with perpetual verdure, studded 
with mossy hillocks, refreshed by balmy gales bearing on 
their wings all the perfumes of the country, protected by 
the northern mountains from every unkindly blast, laved 
by the waters of the sea, and regaled by the eternal 
music of its waves. These plains were formerly used as 
a burial-place for persons of opulence and distinction ; 
perhaps there was a spice of flattery in making it the 
abode of the blessed. On the Acheron was stationed 
Charon, the grim old ferryman, with his bark, to ferry 
over those who could pay the scot. In the middle of 
the lake is a small island, where are sold remarkably 
fine and large oysters. Thither were we ferried, if 
not by Charon himself, by at least a veritable descend- 
ant of that old gentleman, if we might judge from a 
most suspicious and forbidding physiognomy, and par- 
took of a fine feast of raw oysters; after which we were 
referried to the shore, and wading through a crowd of 
little beggars, remounted our carriage, and rapidly pro- 
ceeded towards Baia, through a country and amid classic 
monuments of great interest. 



NAPLES. 



189 



Baia was, in the time of Augustus, one of the most 
beautiful spots on the face of the earth. Nature here 
showered her choicest gifts. A bay always serene 
stretched before her. The earth yielded her fruits in 
abundance. The most delicious fish of all Italy supplied the 
tables of the inhabitants ; and on every side were prom- 
enades and shady groves for their recreation and repose. 
Mineral springs of every degree of temperature gushed 
forth from the neighboring rocks and grottos. Gales, 
ever temperate, bore health and cheerfulness before them. 
Baia became in consequence the resort of the learned, the 
opulent, and the great — of poets and orators, heroes and 
emperors. It became, too, alas ! the seat of voluptuous 
enjoyment, debauchery, and ruthless villany. Here was 
the palace of Julius Caesar, where Marcellus was poi- 
soned by Livia. Here was a villa of Piso, where was 
matured the celebrated conspiracy against Nero. Here, 
too, was a magnificent villa of Nero, the most infamous 
brute that ever disgraced humanity, whose crimes are too 
numerous and too shocking to recount. And here, too, 
was cruelly and wantonly murdered the wretched Ag- 
rippina, mother of Nero, by the orders of her own 
son, after that she herself, in order to place the imperial 
diadem on the head of that son, had poisoned the Em- 
peror Claudius, her husband ! 

And what is Baia now ? A heap of ruins. Its costly 
temples and splendid villas have mouldered into dust ; 
its salubrious fountains have been converted into pools 
of infection ; its walks are deserted, and its shore a 
waste ; its very air breathes pestilence, and the most 
delicious region that the sun shines upon is now a howl- 
ing desert. 

Having ascended in our barouche to the top of the 



190 WONDERFUL FISH POND. 

hill on which stands the castle of Baia, and the ruins 
of the villa of Lucullus, we enjoyed a noble view of the 
Dead Sea or Stygian Lake, the Elysian Fields, Bay of Baia, 
and port of Misenus. This last-mentioned port was, in 
the time of Augustus, the principal station of the Roman 
fleet in the Mediterranean ] and its commanding situation, 
and the almost uninterrupted tranquillity of its waters, 
seem to have been well calculated for that purpose. It 
was here that Octavius and Antony dined with Pompey 
on board his galley. During dinner Pompey 's admiral 
came behind him, and said, " Shall I cut the cable, and 
make you master of the world ? " '' Why did you not 
do it without asking ? " was the reply. 

Descending the hill, we lighted our torches, and en- 
tered and traversed the Cento Camerelle, or hundred lit- 
tle chambers, a number of grottos opening into each 
other, and forming a species of labyrinth. These subter- 
ranean apartments are vaulted and lined with plaster. 
Their design and use are unknown, but they are sup- 
posed to have been one of Nero's prisons. We came 
next to the Piscina Mirabile, or wonderful fish pond, an 
immense reservoir for water, supposed by some to have 
been intended, as its name imports, as a receptacle for 
choice fish, to supply the tables of the neighboring villas, 
and by others to have been constructed by Augustus, or 
some other Roman emperor, to supply pure, filtrated 
water for the inhabitants of the environs, and also for 
the Roman fleet stationed in the port of Misenus. We 
descended by a flight of forty steps. It is divided into 
five corridors and many arcades, supported by forty-eight 
huge pilasters. It is two hundred and twenty-five feet 
long, seventy-five wide, and twenty high. It is con- 
structed of brick, which is covered with an incrustation. 



NAPLES. 191 

deposited by the water, harder than marble. From 
thence we walked along the beach for about a quarter 
of a mile, till we came to what is called the tomb of 
Agrippina, who was assassinated by order of the mon- 
ster Nero, her own son. It is a semicircular building, 
and adorned with bass-reliefs in stucco. We entered 
with torches, and the place where she is reported to have 
been buried was pointed out to us. We next proceeded 
to the hot baths of Nero. These consist of several cor- 
ridors made in the rock and terminating in a fountain of 
boiling water. The baron and secretary refused to pro- 
ceed farther than the entrance cham^ber. My friend and 
myself, however, entered one of the corridors, ac- 
companied by a guide. We had proceeded but a few 
yards when the hot steam poured upon us with such 
violence as almost to suffocate us. With difficulty could 
we discern the glimmer of the guide's torch, though he 
was but a few paces in advance. As to speaking, it was 
out of the question ; once or twice I struggled to say a 
word of encouragement to my friend, who evinced strong 
indications of a disposition to return ; but I could not. 
I found the most prudent course was to keep my mouth 
fast closed as possible. We persevered — the perspira- 
tion gushing from every pore, and rolling off in streams. 
At length, after what appeared a long walk, or rather 
groping, continually on the descent, we reached the 
fountain. It was a pool of some few feet in diameter, 
and appeared to be boiling. The guide dipped up 
some of the water in a bucket, that he had brought 
for the purpose, and threw in a duck's egg ; whereupon 
we returned right gladly to the charming world we had 
left above, and on emerging, the egg was well cooked, 
and we quickly divided aud devoured it. 



192 GROTTO OF THE SIBYL. 

Ill returning by anotlier road we left the carriage, and 
proceeded on foot to the Grotto of the Cumsean Sibyl. 
We followed a shady and beautiful path along the bank 
of the Lake Avernus. This lake is an oval sheet of wa- 
ter, of about four miles in circumference ; it is girt with 
lofty mountains, which formerly were covered with 
forests so dense as to cast a shade over the lake. The 
exhalations that arose from it are said to have been very 
pernicious, and its water pestiferous, insomuch that fishes 
could not live in it, nor birds even fly over it without 
dropping dead. At present, however, its banks are ver- 
dant and delicious, and its air salubrious ; it abounds in 
excellent fish, and we saw numerous birds scaling over 
its surface and reposing on its bosom. Our torches 
lighted, we entered the Grotto of the Sibyl. The entrance 
is under a high, rocky, steep, and in the midst of a dense 
mass of wild shrubs and brambles. Having entered 
through a narrow opening, we found ourselves in a rocky 
cavern, dark and dismal. With the aid of our torches 
we could discern a pool of black water, and here and 
there a protruding rock, just enough to verify Virgil's 
description — 

Spelunca alta fuit, vastoque immanis hiatu 
Scrupea, tuta lacu nigro, nemorumque tenebris. ■* 

^NEiD, B. VI. 1. 237. 

After proceeding a considerable distance in this cavern 
through a sort of corridor, resembling the Grotto of Po- 
silipo, we reached the entrance to the Sibyl's Baths. We 
were here directed by our guides, of Avhom there were 
four, one for each of us, to mount upon their shoulders, 
unless we chose to wade up to our hips in water. My 
firiend and I obeyed without hesitation, and were trans- 



NAPLES. 193 

ported through a narrow grotto where the water was 
two or three feet deep, and set down at last on some 
square blocks of stone, in what appeared to be a small 
chamber, lined with mosaics. This was one of the 
Sibyl's Baths. Little is to be seen but blackened walls 
around and the water below. Our greatest amusement 
there was watching for the ingress of our travelling 
companions. We were curious to know how the guides 
would manage with the baron, who was of such enor- 
mous bulk that it seemed impossible that one man could 
bear him on his shoulders. Presently we heard his 
voice and that of the secretary, and those also of the 
guides ; but from the sounds one would imagine that 
bedlam had broken loose, or that a dozen men were 
drowning and crying for help. Epithets, entreaties, and 
remonstrances, in German, French, and Italian, thunder- 
ing and reverberating through these dismal corridors 
and caverns, burst upon our ears in horrid dissonance. 
At one time we thought the guide had fallen with the 
baron, and unable to rise with such a weight upon him, 
was in danger of drowning ; at another, that the water 
had risen and was threatening to overwhelm the whole 
party, and ourselves with the rest ; for we were in total 
darkness, our guides having gone out with their torches 
to assist their comrades. Presently, however, the guides 
returned, laughing as if to burst their sides, and the 
secretaiy appeared next, mounted on the shoulders of a 
little brawny man, his feet curled up to his hips to avoid 
the water, and his spectacles appearing just above the 
thick, black, matted hair of the guide, and his arms 
clasping, as if for very life, the poor fellow's neck. 
When he had set foot on terra Jirma, he related to us the 
occasion of the uproar. It seema that the good baron, 

n 



194 MOUNT VESUYIUS. 

■witli a deal of trouble and with the aid of three others, 
had been safely mounted on. the shoulders of the strong- 
est man of the party^ who started with his burden ; but 
no sooner had he entered the water than the baron was 
seized with fear, and insisted on returning. But the 
guide, who wanted his fee, loudly remonstrated, saying 
there was no danger, &c. This only increased the trou- 
ble, for the baron was resolved to return ; but he could 
talk only French, and the guide only Italian. To make 
matters worse, the baron's hat, striking against the roof, 
came near falling off, which increased his alarm, and the 
secretary was obliged to stop and take his part, and inter- 
pret his orders to the guide. So the guide was obliged 
to return with the baron, and the secretary advanced. 
We were conveyed back in the same manner, and were 
glad to emerge again into pure air and behold the light 
of day. 

MOUNT VESUVIUS. 

The next day, with the same agreeable party, we made 
an excursion to Vesuvius. But how shall I ever be able 
to give an adequate description of its grandeur and sub- 
limity ? Yesterday we were bewildered and lost in ad- 
miring the multitude of objects that crowded upon us, 
to-day overpowered and struck dumb by the majesty and 
solitary grandeur of one. The ruined villas and temples 
of Baia, and Puzzuoli, while they proclaim the splendor 
and ingenuity of men of former days, proclaim also their 
imbecility and the frailness of their proudest works, Ve- 
suvius, belching its eternal fires, mocks at the ingenuity 
and science of man, and proclaims the omnipotence of 
God. The sight of Vesuvius was to me amply sufficient 



NAPLES. 195 

to compensate for all the expenses and all the toils of so 
long a journey from my native land. 

We left Naples at about half past eight o'clock in the 
morning, in a caleche, to which were attached three 
spirited horses, harnessed abreast. O, it was a glorious 
morning, such as breaks nowhere as in Naples — cloud- 
less, balmy, and warm — much like June in New Eng- 
land, Cheeril}'" we rattled over the pavements, the top 
of the caleche down fore and aft, the whip cracking like 
mad, the boys scampering and hooting after us, and v/e 
prouder than the king himself when he rides abroad. 
The street along which we passed is constructed upon 
the beach, and forms a vast and magnificent arch as it 
sweeps from Naples to Torre del Greco ; it is paved 
with flags of lava from Vesuvius, and on one side is 
walled by an uninterrupted succession of lofty and ele- 
gant buildings, all of stone, or stuccoed, and full of win- 
dows. These mansions are occupied during the spring 
and fall by the nobles and aristocracy of Naples, who, 
during those two most delightful seasons of the year, are 
fond of luxuriating on the borders of the sea, like their 
ancestors in the Augustine age. The opposite side of 
the street is open to the sea, and is prevented from wash- 
ing away by a sea wall, which is laved by the bright 
blue waters of the Mediterranean. Tides there are 
none, and storms seldom visit these shores. The street, 
as we passed right merrily through it, was filled with 
caleches, coaches, and peasants' carts ; with horsemen, 
soldiers, and foot passengers ; with swarms of children, 
and a motley crowd of men and women vending eatables, 
or basking in the sun. And then the shrill, discordant 
cries of those who recommended their fruits and mer- 
chandise ; the yelling of coachmen and cartmen ; the 



196 HEECULANEUM. 

cracking of whips, in which the Neapolitan charioteerg 
are very expert and take a deal of pride ; the shouts of 
innumerable boys at play ; our own rapid and independ- 
ent motion, was, all together, as exciting to our spirits 
as it was deafening to our ears. For several miles we 
enjoyed the finest view of the bay imaginable. A thou- 
sand boats were gliding over its azure surface, and the 
sun sparkled on its gently-ruffled bosom. Behind us 
was the vast Naples, the third city of Europe, rising 
upon an acclivity of vast extent, like the receding banks 
of an immense amphitheatre ; and most conspicuous and 
remarkable of all was Vesuvius itself, directly before us, 
belching from its scorched and furrowed summit that 
eternal cloud of smoke and sulphurous vapor. 

Having reached Portici, at the foot of the mountain, 
we engaged mules and guides, and while they were pre- 
paring, we descended into 

HERCULANETJM. 

Each with a lighted torch, we followed our guide down 
the dark stairway to the excavated theatre of Hercula- 
neum. It is seventy feet under ground, and was capa- 
ble, it is said, of containing ten thousand people. The 
only light of day that ever visits this place is through 
a well, in the digging of which the long-lost and almost- 
forgotten Herculaneum was discovered. The stage, the 
orchestra, the consular seats, and the proscenium, are 
still discernible, together with the lobbies or corridors. 
Nearer the sea are the remains of the city proper, where 
are still to be seen the streets paved with lava, raised 
sidewalks, houses built of tufa and other volcanic sub- 
stances, the baths, &c., still decorated with their original 



NAPLES. 197 

frescoes and other paintings. The brazen statues, mo- 
saics, and other movable objects of curiosity, are found 
deposited in the museum at Naples. 

It is eyident that the inhabitants had time to escape, 
for very few skeletons have been discovered, and but 
little valuable treasure. Nearly all the houses were 
painted in fresco. The windows were closed by wooden 
shutters, except in some houses, where were found thick 
panes of glass. They had not discovered the art of 
making window glass so thin as we do, though many 
vessels and goblets of glass have been found as fine and 
exquisitely wrought as some of the richest of ours. 

Various articles, such as manuscripts, corn, barley, 
almonds, figs, bread, &c., had preserved their original 
form — specimens of each of which we saw in the mu- 
seum at Naples. Vessels of bronze, and most of the 
fiu'niture, were found uninjured. 

On emerging from Herculaneum, we found our guides 
and mules all in readiness, and waiting for us ; mules 
they called them, but they proved to be miserable little 
donkeys. Some of the royal family, having taken it into 
their royal heads to ascend Vesuvius this very day, had 
sent forward couriers to preengage all the horses and 
mules in the village, and we were obliged to accommo- 
date ourselves to the little donkeys, with the best grace 
we could. None of us found any great difficulty in 
mounting, except the good baron. He was, unfortu- 
nately, wholly unaccustomed to ride on horseback ; and 
this, added to his immense size, caused us no inconsid- 
erable delay. He had expected to have found a fine 
horse, with a good saddle and stirrups ; instead of which, 
seeing a half-starved jackass, with a moiety of his back 
a raw sore, and a saddle — luck save us ! — a few bits of 
17* 



198 RIDE ON DONKEYS. 

rotten leather stitched together, and tied by ropes under 
the poor beast's belly, and the stuTups of the precise 
length, at least one of them, for a boy of five years, 
and the other six or eight inches longer, he was in ab- 
solute despair. He warmly remonsti'ated, but remon- 
strance was in vain. It was a choice between two — to 
ascend Vesuvius on this animal or return to Naples. 
At length, with the assistance of us all, he mounted, 
and the poor beast trembled under his burden ; and the 
good baron trembled too, for he feared that the animal 
would bi'eak in two in the middle ; and verily he had 
reason, for the poor creature bent like a pole. But the 
baron's beast was the best and largest of all. What, then, 
must ours have been ! "We all mounted, and were each 
provided, not with a whip, but with an immense cudgel, 
to answer the double purpose of belaboring the beasts, and 
assisting our progress up the mountain when the asses 
would become useless to us. In this trim we started ; a 
multitude of boys and men followed, hooting and yelling 
in a most unearthly manner, and belaboring our poor 
beasts, some with their tattered hats, others with sticks, 
and others again with stones. One would suppose half 
the village had assembled for the purpose. Be that as 
it may, they were a motley set — ragged, bareheaded, 
coatless ; most of them with nothing on but breeches 
and a shirt, with their legs bare up to the knees. The 
beasts took it all with imperturbable coolness, not quick- 
ening their pace one whit, and only now and then 
evincing a degree of sensibility by spasmodic efforts to 
throw out their two hind legs at their persecutors, at the 
imminent risk of plunging their innocent riders on the 
pavement. The baron became very much alarmed, and 
so did we all ; but that did us no good, and only made 



NAPLES. 199 

matters worse ; and I verily believe that we should have 
all been unassed in a few moments more had we not, 
in our trepidation, drawn with such convulsive force 
upon the creatures' bits, that by a simultaneous move- 
ment they all stood still. We were greatly relieved; 
but not so our troop of kindly followers, who, attribut- 
ing the stoppage to the obstinacy of the poor brutes, 
redoubled their yells and blows — yea, and their num- 
bers, too ; and I know not what would have been the re- 
sult, had not the secretary, out of regard to the good 
baron, and to himself also, devised a mode to rid us of 
this incommodious rabble. He turned his animal's head 
towards them, and placing himself in a warlike attitude, 
commenced brandishing his cudgel among them, accom- 
panying that operation with the most extraordinary con- 
tortions of countenance, at which remarkable and une- 
quivocal demonstrations, the entire rabble scampered, 
like flies brushed from a honey pot. Thus, then, with 
the secretary behind as a rear guard, to whip off the 
tattered gentry of the village, we commenced the ascent 
of Mount Vesuvius, 

Our path was at times exceedingly rough, and some- 
times steep ; but we held fast, at least I did, to the piece 
of leather that ought to have been the pommel of the 
saddle, for the reins were entirely useless, a mere 
form. But the poor asses proved very faithful, and 
picked their way, at times literally climbing, with 
great discretion and marvellous slowness ; and we re- 
joiced, when we perceived the path becoming more 
rough at every step, that these beasts had fallen to our 
lot, rather than horses. That which most annoyed us, 
was the invincible propensity of the guides and owners 
of the asses to yell without intermission at the poor 



200 ASCENT OF VESUVIUS. 

animals, and beat tliem without mercy. "We did all 
we could to induce tliem to desist ; but our efforts 
•were of little avail. It was Ey — y ! Ey — y ! and 
then a whack, whack — the whole way. At the com- 
mencement of the ascent our path was flanked by vine- 
yards, with which the foot of the mountain was entirely 
covered. But as we advanced,, what a contrast soon 
presented itself to our view — black havoc and fiery 
desolation ! Immense fields of ashes and scoria lay 
extended around us, and then whole seas of lava, of 
unknown depth, which in many places, as we approached 
them, assumed the appearance of rivers of melted coal 
suddenly checked and hardened in their beds. One of 
these immense lava torrents, which lay near our path, 
burst forth from the crater so lately as the year 1822, 
and is still so hot that, at a foot or two from the surface, 
it would blister your hand. "Without any accident we 
reached the Hermitage, a small house at the foot of the 
" cone," where there always resides a friar or hermit. 
Here we were regaled by the good father with some of 
that much esteemed and truly delicious wine, profanely 
called " Lachryma ChristV 

We were now obliged to abandon our asses, and per- 
form the residue of the ascent on foot, as it is entirely 
impracticable for beasts. The good baron, dismayed at 
the thought of such an undertaking, declined advancing 
any farther, and returned to the village. Our party thus 
reduced to three, viz., the secretary, my friend, and my- 
self, we commenced the ascent of the cone on foot. It 
was a walk indeed. We did not ascend by the usual 
path, on account of the snow and ice that lay there, 
but were obliged to clamber up on loose and rolling 
lumps of scoria. We each had a man, with a leather 



NAPLES. 201 

strap over his shoulder, one end of which was given 
ns, in order thereby to lessen the difficulty of the ascent. 
I availed myself of it for a few steps, but preferred 
depending on my own resources ; so^ giving the honest 
man my coat, I followed in his track, and, I believe, was 
the least fatigued of the party. We toiled along in this 
manner for about an hour and a half, stopping three or 
four times to breathe, or rather to blow, and we perspired 
freely. Finally we reached the summit, and soon after 
the edge of the crater. Here we encountered first a 
cloud of hot steam, and were completely enveloped by 
it. We could see nothing else, and knew not whither 
we were going. • At the distance of four or five feet 
we could not discern each other, and were obliged to 
call out, and warn our companions to keep close 
together. The poor secretary began to tremble, and 
imagined that we were tumbling into the boiling crater ; 
and it was with difficulty that we could rally him, and 
induce him to advance. But this was a mere premoni- 
tory symptom, a delicate foretaste of that which was 
coming. In a short time the hot steam was converted 
into rolling clouds of black, pitchy smoke, and then came 
suflfocating vapors, impregnated with burning sulphur. 
What choking, coughing, and applying of handkerchiefs 
to the nose and mouth ! What exclamations and remon- 
strances ! What grimaces and contortions ! " Come 
on," shouted the chief guide, " come on ! quick, quick !" 
But the poor secretary was frightened, and would not 
come ; he stood stock still, and gasped, and coughed, 
and flourished his white pocket handkerchief as though 
he were mad. Convinced that the ^oner we were out 
of this brimstone atmosphere the better, we took his 
arms to urge him on ; but no, he would not go another 



202 MOUNT VESUYIUS. 

step, but insisted on going back, and, as lie could 
catch breatli, gave us to understand that he should die 
certainly, and, what was worse, that we should die too, 
and that he was resolved to return ; nay, more, he was 
resolved that we should return with him. But there 
were, fortunately, two sides to this question. My friend 
was for yielding ; not I. " You shall come back," 
gasped the secretary. " I shall not," gasped I. Where 
this dispute, in the midst of burning .brimstone, on the 
summit of Mount Vesuvius, would have terminated, I 
cannot say, had we not fortunately been able to compro- 
mise the matter. We had two guides ; so it was agreed 
that he should go back with one, while my friend and 
I went on with the other. If the atmosphere of the 
nether world be like this — nay, as the Holy Scriptures 
teach us, infinitely more horrible — what self-denials, 
what anguish, what tortures should we not rejoice briefly 
to endure in this world, that we may escape the pains 
of those unquenchable fires ! Holding our handker- 
chiefs to our faces with one hand, while with the other 
we held upon our guide for dread of losing him, we 
hurried rapidly onward ! The wind was, unfortunately, 
blowing directly from the crater towards us, and this 
was the cause of the unusual difliculty of advancing. 
Finally we emerged upon the opposite side, in a pure 
atmosphere, under a serene sky and a brilliant sun, and 
were immediately relieved. In a few moments the sound 
of human voices reached us. Another party had preceded 
us. As we advanced the voices grew louder and more dis- 
tinct, accompanied with merriment and laughter ; and, to 
add to our surprise and pleasure, their language was 
good, plain old English. But as yet we saw no one, 
and could not divine whence proceeded those agreeable. 



NAPLES. 203 

merry -v olces. But we were not long in ignorance. The 
mountain's summit was wild and uneven, and, as we 
turned a point, we discovered a party of gentlemen in 
a fissure, between two banks of sulphur, roasting eggs 
in the ashes of the mountain. One of them, after eying 
me a moment, immediately ran towards me, called 
me by name, and shook me cordially by the hand. He 
was a relative, from Boston. Who would have thought 
of meeting him, amid ashes, and flames, and sulphur, on 
the summit of Mount Vesuvius ? After interchanging 
an abundance of questions, we drank together some 
mountain wine, and ate eggs roasted in the cinders. All 
his pai'ty were Americans. After an agreeable tete-a-tete 
with them of a few moments, we took our leave, and 
pursued our course. 

We walked about the summit of the mountain for 
about an hour. Looking out towards the sea, we en- 
joyed a charming view of Naples and the bay. Every 
thing, however, appeared on a level, and very diminu- 
tive, as if seen through an inverted telescope. The 
ground itself on which we walked, as may easily be 
imagined, was far from being an agreeable plain. Not 
a spire or herb of any kind was visible. It was broken 
into frightful chasms and hillocks, composed of sul- 
phur, ashes, and scoria. But the most striking and fear- 
ful object of all was the abyss that yawned below us-^ 
a crater of about six thousand feet in circumference. 
There were some persons at the very bottom, who ap- 
peared so small that we could bat just distinguish them. 
The weather was such that we could descend. The path 
is exceedingly steep, and, as the ashes yield to the feet, 
the descent is not difficult ; but for the same reason, and 
also in consequence of the sulphurous vapors continually 



204 . DESCENT FROM MOUNT VESUTITJS. 

exhaling^ the ascent is dreadful. The shape and the 
surface of the bottom of the crater often vary. It is 
sometimes concave, sometimes convex, according as the 
degree of intensity of the internal fermentation forces it 
upward or permits it to settle downward. This crust, 
beneath which rage eternal fires, is formed by the lava, 
scoria, sand, cinders, and other volcanic matters. To 
stand on the brink of this crust and look over into the 
heaving and bottomless caldron requires no small de- 
gree of nerve. The aperture was about thirty feet in 
diameter, from which, as from a mammoth steamer, shot 
forth with horrid puffs black smoke and vapors. When 
we listened, we could hear, in the very bowels of the 
mountain, distinct reports, like those of distant artillery. 
When we rolled masses of scoria into the gaping chasm, 
hoarse sounds were emitted, and fresh and thicker clouds 
of smoke arose, as though some new aperture had been 
made in the mysterious mass. 

But the day waxes apace, and the guide becomes im- 
patient, and it behooves us to break the fascinating 
charm that chains us to this terrible spot. I would 
gladly have spent many hours about that summit and in 
that crater. We lingered as long as we could in reason, 
and then, remembering that the good secretary, and 
perhaps the baron, were anxiously awaiting our return, 
we gave one farewell look down the enormous chasm, 
and from the summit rolled, for the last time, some 
large masses of scoria down its steep sides, and stood 
for a moment to watch them as they bounded, and 
roared, and reechoed, and then tumbled into the flaming 
pit. After which achievement, following our guide, we 
commenced the descent of the mountain. Having once 
more made our way through the smoke and sulphur, we 



NAPLES. 205 

found the secretary and liis guide awaiting us. We 
greeted him as we would an old acquaintance that we 
had not seen for some days. We descended by another 
path than that by which we had ascended. It was noth- 
ing but sand, or rather ashes, knee deep, and very steep. 
We had but to place our backs on nearly a parallel with 
the declivity, and at every step we made four or five 
feet of descent. It was literally leap and go down to 
the foot of the cone. Here our donkeys had been 
brought, and were in readiness. We rode to the her- 
mitage, where we lunched. After which we rode to 
Portici. Our poor donkeys were wonderfully more active 
than during the ascent. Twice I saw one of our party 
thrown from his beast, and lying in the road. But 
mine would not stop. I suppose he was hungry, and 
had oats in prospect. So I held on fast to the pommel, 
lest I too should find myself in the same deplorable 
situation. Arrived at Portici, the beasts stopped of 
themselves, and could not have been made to advance 
another inch. 

ROYAL MUSEUM. 

This is truly a magnificent establishment. It is 
doubtless the finest in the world for the study of Ro- 
man antiquities, — as the various utensils, furniture, and 
other curiosities found in Pompeii, Herculaneum, Min- 
turnae, Stabiae, Capua, Paestum, &c., are here deposited. 
The museum is an elegant and spacious building, finely 
situated, and divided into various galleries and apart- 
ments, with regard to the principal of which I shall say 
a few words. 

Picture Gallery. — The number of ancient paintings 
18 



206 BOURBON MUSEUM. 

amounts to near two thousand. Most of them are from 
Pompeii and Herculaneum, and display in general great 
taste in their design^ and some also in their execution. 
However, their only interest to me was their antiquity, 
and the information they convey of the state of the arts 
at the commencement of the Christian era. 

Ancient Sculpture. — The gallery of ancient sculpture 
far surpasses, in the richness of its treasures, that of the 
paintings. It contains equestrian statues, and statues 
and busts of men and women ; wrestlers and gladiators ; 
mythological and other groups ; beasts and birds ; urns 
and vases elegantly adorned with basso rilievo ; mills 
made of lava for grinding corn and pressing olives ; and 
columns of precious marble, porphyry, rosso antico, and 
terra cotta. Many of them are the richest masterpieces 
in existence of the Grecian and E-oman chisel. Most 
of them were disinhumed from Herculaneum and Pom- 
peii. The most celebrated group is that of the Tore 
Parnese, formed of a solid block of marble, two hundred 
years, it is supposed, before the Christian era. 

One apartment contains an interesting collection of 
Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities. 

Bronze Sculpture. — Some of the specimens are of 
rare beauty and exquisite workmanship, taken chiefly 
from Herculaneum. There were two large bronze 
dyer's vats, taken from Pompeii. (Several of the statues 
had eyes of glass, some also of silver. There was a 
beautiful bust of Plato, another of Seneca, also a colos- 
sal head of a horse, said to have belonged to the statue 
of a horse anciently placed before a temple of the Sun, 
now the archiepiscopal palace at Naples. 

Three rooms contained a collection of the common 
pottery of Pompeii. These were the sort of things that 



NAPLES. 



2or 



pleased me most, and in rooms like these I lingered 
longest ; for, by examining these various utensils of 
every-day use, we learn, nay, we see, what were the 
domestic ways of the people — how they ate, drank, 
cooked, toiled, &c. I would give vastly more for such 
knowledge than I would for that of the exploits of 
heroes, the lives of emperors, and the victories and de- 
feats of armies. By examining these objects, especially 
after a visit to Pompeii and Herculaneum, one can easily 
imagine himself in the kitchen or the parlor of the 
ancients, or refreshing himself in one of their resto- 
rators, or making purchases in their shops, or sitting at 
their tables, or peeping into their ovens, or reposing on 
their beds. In books of history I look in vain for some 
satisfactory account of the manners and every-day habits 
and mechanical skill of nations of by-gone days — some- 
thing that will exhibit them as men like ourselves — as 
having the same wants, and putting forth the same ac- 
tivity of invention, and appreciating the same domestic 
comforts ; but here in the museum of Naples I find this 
want abundantly supplied from the ruins of Pompeii, 
Herculaneum, and other disinhumed cities of Southern 
Europe, at least as far as regards the proudest and most 
flourishing era of the Roman empire. 

These rooms contained some cu.rious specimens of 
pottery. Among the rest were small drinking cups for 
birds confined in cages, pestles and mortars, jars and 
jugs for liquors, and innumerable lamps of all shapes 
and sizes. Another room contains an assortment of 
glass ware that might well put to the blush our modern 
glass blowers. They were tastefully arranged on shelves, 
of every shape and color, and for every purpose almost 
that can be imagined. Besides decanters, fruit dishes. 



208 BOUEBON MUSEUM. 

cups, goblets, necklaces, &c., &c., there was a collection 
of large bottles of medicine, found in a druggist's shop 
in Pompeii, and also several pieces of plate glass. 

In a room called the cabinet of gems were some rich 
and beautiful rings, necklaces, brooches, chains, gold 
leaf, and gold lace, from Pompeii and Herculaneum j 
also a purse of money found in the hand of Diomede's 
wife at Pompeii, the attempt to save which perhaps cost 
her her life. There were silver cups, dishes, plates, 
salvers, spoons, &c., and paints taken from a painter's 
shop in Pompeii. There were also in this room loaves 
of bread stamped with the name of the baker, various 
sorts of grains, fruits, eggs, flour, dough, soap, wearing 
apparel, «&c. Among the precious articles were some 
beautiful cameos, one of them representing Cleopatra 
and the asp, and another, very celebrated, representing 
the apotheosis of Ptolemy. 

In another room were various articles of household 
furniture, such as stoves, kettles, stewpans, a gridiron, 
frying pans, baking pans, egg pans, like those still used 
in Italy, moulds for pastry, skimmers, ladles, a portable 
stove, and a kitchen grate, all found in Pompeii or Her- 
culaneum. 

In another room were a variety of balance scales, 
steelyards, weights, &c., like ihose in present use, 
though far handsomer. 

Another room contained agricultural tools from Pom- 
peii, precisely Hke those now in use in some parts of 
Italy. Here also were fetters found in a prison there, 
and various weapons of war — helmets, armor, &c. 

In another room was a miscellaneous collection, con- 
sisting of surgical instruments of every kind, inkstands, 
pens, letters for stamping bread, (showing that the 



NAPLES. 20^ 

Pompeians understood the art of printing, at least In one 
department,) opera tickets, musical instruments, spinning 
wheels, hair and other pins, nails, screws, locks, keys, 
latches, bolts, hinges, axes, hatchets, &c., &c., many of 
them beautifully finished, and made precisely as they 
are made nowadays. The mirrors, combs, rouge, and 
other personal ornaments belonging to this collection, 
were found in the tombs of feiaaales ; the arms, armor, 
dice, and writing apparatus in the tombs of men ; the 
toys in the tombs of children, whose skeletons are fre- 
quently surrounded with marbles, tops, and jointed 
dolls. Kitchen and table utensils have been found in 
every tomb, as have vases for wine, oil, grain, &c. ; so 
that by examining the abodes of the dead we are taught 
the domestic economy of nations who inhabited this 
earth from two thousand to three thousand years ago. 
In the room last mentioned was a beautiful compact 
cooking stove, found in Herculaneum, which beats 
Stimpson's or Pond's range out and out. 

There are several other apartments containing sepul- 
chral vases, appendages to heathen worship, papyri, Sec, 
which it would take too much time to describe. I will 
merely remark that the papyri are the old manuscripts 
preserved in the libraries of the ancient literati, or 
written by themselves. A large number of these were 
found in Herculaneum. But the rolls were so scorched 
and burned as to resemble charcoal ; and at first thou- 
sands were thrown away, or consumed as such. The 
true nature of the treasure, however, having been fortu- 
nately discovered, a Neapolitan priest has invented a 
machine for unrolling them, the process of which we 
witnessed. Several large volumes of these papyri, 
or manuscripts, have been already printed, and others 
18* 



210 CATACOMBS. 

are in preparation for the press. The letters we could 
distinctly trace on some of the rolls and fragments. 

The library is remarkable for its size and magnifi- 
cence, and also for an echo which answers distinctly 
twenty-two times. It contains one hundred and fifty 
thousand printed volumes, and between three and four 
thousand manuscripts. We saw some ancient and splen- 
didly illuminated Missals and Breviaries, &c 

CATACOMBS. 

We passed a very agreeable half day in rambling 
among the catacombs. They are not, of course, so in- 
teresting, particularly to a Christian, as those of Eome, 
though it is said that they are more extensive. There 
are three or four diflferent entrances to the catacombs, in 
different parts of the city. We entered by that called 
St. Gennaro dei Poveri. We were first introduced into 
a subterranean church used by the primitive Christians. 
The chair of the bishop is still in perfect preservation, 
as also the altar, seats for the inferior clergy, &c., all cut 
from the solid rock. The paintings and stuccoes that 
adorned the tombs of the martyrs are in many places 
distinctly visible. Many of the tombs are well pre- 
served, and here and there are seen the remains of a 
skeleton. The size of these catacombs has never been 
ascertained, but they are supposed to extend for miles. 
under the city. They are divided into three distinct 
stories, and you ascend or descend from one to the other 
by flights of steps, or by an inclined plane. Each story 
contains many vaults, halls, and corridors of vast extent, 
the whole cut from solid rock. We were showed the 
place where the operators ceased work, which informs 



NAPLES. 211 

also how they accomplished it, viz., by chiselling round 
the piece of rock they wished to displace, thereby sepa- 
rating it from the main body, then rolling it out. 

The finest streets of Naples are the Strada Toledo 
and Chiaia, and they are both well calculated to arrest 
the attention of travellers. The former is a mile and a 
half long, wide and straight, well paved, and flanked 
with superb edifices. The latter comprehends an ele- 
gant public garden, called the Villa Reale, which is 
more than half a mile in length, extending along the 
margin of the bay. This garden is richly ornamented 
with trees and shrubbery, parterres and fountains, tem- 
ples and statues. These streets during carnival present 
a most animating appearance. The first few days of car- 
nival I was fortunate enough to witness. I say fortunate, 
because this season of festivity has been so often and so 
severely animadverted on by travellers, to the prejudice 
of the Catholic church, of which many appear to believe 
that it forms an essential part, that I was very curious 
to observe how it was conducted. I expected to have 
seen carousing, drunkenness, quarrelling, and breaking 
of heads — I looked for vagabonds and pickpockets ; 
but there was nothing of the kind. The Chiaia and 
Toledo were filled with people ; half the population of 
Naples seemed to have been in the streets ; but they 
all appeared well dressed, respectable, and orderly. A 
double file of vehicles, some of them very splendid, 
slowly traversed the streets, in the midst of the crowd, 
yet no one was run over. The windows and balconies 
were filled with ladies and gentlemen, and between them 
and those in the carriages, which were all open, was car- 
ried on a playful war, in which the projectiles used were 
sugar-plums and flowers. This is repeated every day 



212 THE APENNINES. 

during carnival, and each day continues for about three 
hours preceding sunset, when all retire peaceably to their 
homes, and the streets assume their ordinary appearance. 
I should have added that among those on foot are many 
in fantastic dresses and masks, who, by their odd gestures 
and pranks, excite much mirth. 

CAPRI. 

We made an excursion to the Island of Capri, by 
steamboat, and ascended on donkeys to the summit of 
the bluff on the extreme left, a perpendicular precipice 
one thousand five hundred feet above the level of the 
sea. From this precipice, it is said, Tiberius was wont 
to cast his prisoners headlong into the Mediterranean. 
We also entered the Azure Cave, by means of a small 
skiff, and through an opening so small that we were 
compelled to lie down in the bottom of the boat while 
she was entering the cave. The water was of an azure 
blue, and the same color was reflected upon the lofty 
vaulted roof. The effect was enchanting. 

LORETTO. 

We travelled from E.ome to Loretto in diligence. Our 
sole motive in undertaking this journey was to make a 
pilgrimage to the shrine of our Blessed Lady. We were 
forty-eight hours on the road, travelling day and night, 
over a beautiful and highly cultivated country, through 
wheat fields, vineyards, and olive groves. One morning, 
at five o'clock, while our horses were toiling slowly up 
the Apennines, we descended from the diligence and 
followed on foot. Presently, on the road side, we 



LORETTO. 21S 

espied a village church. The door stood invitingly open. 
We accepted gladly the invitation, and entered ihe 
church, A large congregation had assembled. The 
priest, vested for the Mass, ascended to the altar, and 
commenced the holy mysteries. It was the usual daily 
Mass. But, 0, what sweet memories did it not revive ! 
what thoughts did it not suggest ! Here, thousands of 
miles away, among a strange people, talking a strange 
language, — here in a village church on the summit of 
the Apennines, — we are suddenly transported to our 
own home. Here we behold the priest, the altai", the 
faithful — our own fathers and brothers. Here we adore 
the same Lord and God in the Blessed Sacrament. The 
little boy in surplice precedes the priest. Both kneel at 
the altar. The priest ascends the steps, and arranges the 
chalice, opens the Missal, then descends and commences 
Mass. The language is the same, the words the same, 
the ceremonies the same, the attitude and demeanor of 
the congregation, all the same as in our own churches 
in America. Tastes may differ, languages may differ, 
ideas of liberty and of government may differ — every 
thing human undergo phases and progressive or receding 
changes. But religion, like God, its author, is always 
and every where the same. It knows no change, for it 
is founded on a rock. It knows no progress, for it was 
perfect in the beginning. It stands in need of no re- 
form, nor purgation, for it is without stain or blemish. 
It is " bright as the sun, fair as the moon, and terrible 
as an army in battle array." 

But we cannot remain long. Our carriage is still toil- 
ing up the mountain, and we must say good by again 
to friends and home, and- hasten to overtake it. 

We reached Loretto in good season for bieakfasty after 



214 A BANiD OF PILGEIMS. 

wtiicli we visited the holy house in which our divine 
Lord was conceived, which in the year 1294, was brought 
by angels from Palestine to Loretto. A large fine chui-ch 
has been erected over the house — a noble monument 
of the piety of the faithful and of the truth of the mira- 
cle. While we were occupied with our devotions, sud- 
denly the principal door of the church was thrown open, 
and a band of pilgrims entered, singing hymns, — and, on 
their knees, slowly advanced to the holy house. They 
had come on foot from a village about twenty miles dis- 
tant, solely with the object of making this visit to Our 
Lady of Loretto. When they had reached the door of 
the chapel they stopped singing, and in silence, or inter- 
rupted by sobs and ejaculations, they entered that sacred 
chamber where the angel had announced to Mary the 
incarnation of the Son of God in her chaste and unsul 
lied womb. Hail, Mary, full of grace ! The Lord is 
with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed 
is the fruit of thy womb. 

Pious pilgrims, we will not intrude upon your devo- 
tions. Go in, and, prostrate before the shrine of the 
Mother of God, pour forth your griefs and make known 
your wants. You will find a powerful and generous 
advocate in Mary. She will smile upon you as only a 
mother can smile, and she will plead for you as only a 
mother can plead. Pious pilgrims in the holy house 
forget not to pray for sinners. 

How I love the Italians for their tender devotion to 
the Blessed Mother of our Lord ! — that devotion which 
excites the derision of Protestants, and the pity of proud, 
self-constituted philanthropists, and the sneers of rich 
and lordly imbeciles, and the horror of long-faced hypo- 
crites. I shudder to think that had I come to Rome 



LOEETTO. 215 

a Protestant. I too might have sneered, and scoffed, and 
blasphemed ; for what maketh us to differ, unless it be 
the grace of God ? Thanks, everlasting thanks, to him 
b}'' whose grace, unmerited on my part, I entered the 
Eternal City a child of the holy church of my Eedeemer. 
Regarding Mary as the tenderest of mothers, the devo- 
tion of the Italians was to me consoling, and filled my 
heart with unutterable joy. In it I perceived the most 
unaffected and ardent love for Jesus, our divine Master. 
Indeed, what gives Mary a title to our veneration and 
love, except that she is the mother of our Lord ? "Was 
it not she who gave him birth ? — she who suckled him, 
and watched over his infancy and childhood ? — she who 
followed him in his suffering pilgrimage on earth, never 
quitted his side, saw him even nailed to a cross, and 
expire before her eyes, — her own son, and such a son ! 
— yet uttered no word of remonstrance, nor offered a 
single petition for his release ? And why, O meekest 
and most suffering of mothers, why thus resigned, thus 
patient, thus mute, when thy blameless child was cruelly 
torn from thee by ferocious men, arrested and tried as 
a felon, buffeted, spit upon, and derided, sworn against 
by perjured witnesses, convicted, and adjudged to the 
most painful and ignominious of deaths ? Do I ask 
why ? Ah, too well I know ! It was thy pure and 
fervent charity — charity for me, most ungrateful of 
mortals — charity stronger than maternal love, and 
strengthened yet more by a knowledge supernatural of 
the character and mission of that son of thine, whose 
sufferings and death were necessary to secure the salva- 
tion of man. Shall man, then, refuse to love and ven- 
erate her who brought forth his Redeemer ? Nay, shall 
he not venerate and love her more than any created 



216 VISIT TO FIEMO. 

being ? — tlian even angels and archangels ? Can this 
detract anght from the love and honor due to Jesus our 
Lord 'f No, certainly. On the contrary, it manifests, 
it proves, it proclaims the love we bear to Him for whose 
sake alone, and on whose account alone, Mary is loved 
and invoked. Is it esteemed derogatory to a prince that 
his mother should be honored and esteemed by his sub- 
jects, and made the medium of conveying to him their 
petitions ? Did the proudest potentate ever feel insulted 
because his mother, on entering the capital, was greeted 
with acclamations of joy, with the ringing of bells, and 
the discharge of artillery ? On the contrary, would not 
these very honors redound to the glory of the sovereign ? 

Let me be believed, then, when I declare that I could 
see nothing in this devotion of the Italians to the mother 
of Jesus but the most fervent and touching affection 
towards Jesus himself. They regard her and address 
her as a mother because she is tlie mother of Jesus, and 
Jesus is our brother — "Ye are my brethren." She 
possesses still and exercises the prerogative conferred 
upon her while she stood at the foot of the cross — 
conferred upon her by her divine. Son, who addressed 
the beloved disciple then representing the church, or 
body of the faithful, in these memorable words, " Be- 
hold thy mother ; " and then addressed the mother, 
"Behold thy son." 

On the following morning I celebrated Mass in the 
holy house, and gave communion to the band of pil- 
grims mentioned above. While in Loretto we made an 
excursion to Tirmo, and visited Father Sopranis, rector 
of a Jesuit college. We were most hospitably enter- 
tained by the good father. We called on his eminence 
the cardinal archbishop, with whom we were vastly 



TRIESTE. 217 

pleased. During the troubles of 1848 he refused to 
abandon his flock, and was seized by the "wretches who 
called themselves patriots, and for four months was in- 
carcerated in the common jail. It being Sunday, after 
celebrating Mass we assisted at High Mass at the ca- 
thedral. The canons composing the chapter enjoy the 
privilege of wearing mitres, whenever the cardinal offi- 
ciates pontifically, as he did this day. His eminence 
preached a plain, practical sermon, wearing the mitre. 
He exposed with a clearness, force, and dignity, worthy 
of a bishop, the reckless fatuity of the unbelievers of the 
present day, the emptiness of their systems, and the dan- 
gers with which they are fraught for individuals, and 
for nations. After Mass, we dined with his eminence. 
Many of his clergy, and several distinguished laymen, 
were at the table. We left with the most favorable im- 
pressions of the virtues, talents, and piety of the vener- 
able prelate. His name is De Angelis. He is sixty- 
two years of age, and is regarded by the Italian clergy 
as one of the most prominent, influential, and learned 
of the members of the sacred college. 

TRIESTE. 

We took passage for Trieste in a vettura, which was 
to take us as far as Ancona. When we arrived at An- 
cona, we received the agreeable intelligence that the 
steamer for Trieste was just on the point of sailing, and 
that, consequently, we were too late. What was to be 
done ? There is nothing of interest in Ancona. Several 
days may elapse before another steamboat departs. Our 
fellow-passengers were more alarmed than we. One 
cui-sed ; but that did us no good, and was sinful. An- 
19 



218 INCIDENT AT ANCONA. 

other ran about the streets ; that was useless. Another 
rushed to the custom house, to hurry through the bag- 
gage ; that, too, availed but little. The fact was, An- 
cona is fond of strangers, and Ancona likes to have them 
rest there for a few days, and Ancona is very happy to 
receive their money. However, to the disappointment 
of all the Anconians, my companion relieved us all from 
our anxiety and embarrassment. We were all huddled 
together at the door of the steam packet office, wonder- 
ing what we should do. The steamer had not sailed ; 
she lay in the offing, all ready, to sail the moment the 
agent should come aboard with his. papers. "We could 
have gone aboard, but our baggage was at the custom 
house; and the officers of the customs seemed deter- 
mined that it should be delayed as long as possible, with 
the benevolent intent, doubtless, to force us to accept the 
hospitality of Ancona for at least a day or two. Now, 
my friend had discovered that the agent was at that 
precise time in the packet office, preparing his papers. 
He called me aside, and requested me not to look for 
him, as he intended, if possible, to engage the agent in 
conversation, and detain him till, the arrival of our bag- 
gage. I remained outside, pacing the sidewalk, for what 
seemed to me an interminable age, occasionally glancing 
in at the windows, and seeing my friend in earnest con- 
versation, or dispute, with the agent, (I could not tell 
which,) who (that is, the agent aforesaid) held his papers 
in his hand. At length, in about an hour, when the 
custom house officers supposed that the steamer must 
have departed, down came rattling a file of barrows, 
with our baggage piled thereon ; seeing which, my 
friend, whose eyes were constantly turned in the direc- 
tion of the street, abruptly terminated the conversation. 



VENICE. 219 

and we all hastened to the pier, where we hurriedly 
sprang into a boat, and bade the boatman pull for his 
life. The agent, perceiving that he was far behind time, 
jumped into another boat, and we ran a most exciting 
race. Fortunately we reached the steamer at about the 
same moment. We were so rejoiced to be on board, 
that we did not stay to hear the result of the violent 
altercation that immediately took place between the agent 
and the captain, which latter declared that he was just on 
the point of firing a gun, and sailing without him. 

Trieste is a city wholly addicted to commerce. There 
is little in it worth seeing, except the shipping. The 
Hotel de la Ville, where we lodged, is a fine building ; 
it was remarkably clean ; a good table and excellent ser- 
vants. There was no noise nor bustle, no pressing for 
gratuities and huonamanos. Give, well and good ; not 
give, no word nor sign. There was not a mendicant to 
be seen. Every body seemed to be employed. In one 
of the churches, we assisted at the Benediction of the 
Blessed Sacrament, and were highly pleased with the 
singing. It was performed chiefly by children, led by 
one of the altar boys, who had a rich and melodious 
voice. 

VENICE. 

A traveller from the western world, before reaching 
Venice, has seen many strange and beautiful things. 
He has beheld products of genius and of art such as he 
had never dreamed of at home. He has been lost in 
admiration of superb temples and gorgeous palaces, and 
has wandered through their galleries feasting his eyes 
on the marvels they spread before him. Yet with all 
their richness and beauty such things have not taken 



220 DESCRIPTION OP 

him by surprise. He was prepared for them. He haa 
seen temples^ and fine buildings, and statues, and paint- 
ings, and many curious and beautiful specimens of 
artistic skill executed by his own countrymen ; and when 
he went abroad, it was with the expectation of beholding 
something finer and more beautiful; and if he experi- 
ence a sensation of disappointment, it is that they hardly 
reach the beau ideal of his expectations. But when he 
approaches Venice, it is far different. He has read of 
her as Queen of the Sea, '* throned on her hundred 
isles," — as the glorious and formidable republic, — as 
the entrepot of the exhaustless riches of the East. He 
has heard of her numberless streets of water, of her 
Kialto and Bridge of Sighs, of her gondolas and moon- 
lit festivals, and his imagination is filled with the 
romance and magic spells which surround her; yet, 
when at length the gondolier, in his black, hearse-looking 
bark, takes him to the city, all his previous conceptions 
and ideal creations give way before the reality. No 
man can describe Venice. No man can convey by lan- 
guage any thing like a just idea of the mysterious beauty, 
and dignity, and magnificence, and sadness, with which 
she is veiled. A vast, a beautiful, a populous city lies 
before him, — without streets, or yards, or lands of any 
sort, — rising out of the sea ; the houses and public 
buildings, many stories high, of an architecture wholly 
unlike any thing which he had ever seen at home or 
abroad, the waters of the sea washing their foundations, 
and if they should rise a foot, entering their very doors ; 
an eternal silence by day and by night, never inter- 
rupted by the sound of wheels, or the hoofs of horses, 
or even the barking of dogs ; no merry shouts of youth 
at play, no holiday processions, no military displays, no 



TENICE. 221 

foot passengers for business or for pleasure, all business 
and amusement being silently accomplished in the fairy 
gondola, and by means of the noiseless oar, — he is bewil- 
dered with astonishment and wonder, and feels like one, 
who, with the lamp of an Aladdin, has been transported 
into another world, and among a race of beings not 
belonging to the earth. 

It was near noon when the ancient and once gorgeous 
city of Venice loomed up from the sea. Venice has 
been often described by travellers ; but it is always full 
of interest. Here is a city without streets, without 
carts, carriages, horses, or any beasts ; a vast city, rich 
in costly mansions, stately palaces, churches, paintings, 
and galleries of the fine arts, yet floating, in disjointed 
parcels, on the bosom of the sea. There is not another 
city like it on the face of the earth. If you would visit 
a friend, or go a shopping, or assist at divine service, or 
draw money from your banker, you must step into a 
gondola and be borne thither by water. These gondo- 
las are the most picturesque and graceful boats that I 
ever saw. They are very long and narrow ; their prows 
are of burnished steel, high, and full of thin molar teeth ; 
they are furnished each with a black canopy, like that 
of a hearse, and the entire boat is black ; they cleave 
the water with a stillness and rapidity that seems almost 
preternatural ; the gondoliei', or boatman, tall and stately 
as a mast, stands on the stern, and with an easy, swaying 
movement of his body, gives velocity and direction to 
the gondola — never coming in contact with another, and 
shouting at every turn to give warning of his approach. 

We engaged lodgings at a venture at the Hotel San 
Marco, and we had no reason to regret it. We had fine 
rooms, looking out on the beautiful Piazza San Marco, 
19* 



222 CATHEDEAL. 

from whence we could see the famous pigeons of Yenice 

— almost the only animals in it. Sometimes the entire 
square was covered with them, as with a changeable car- 
pet. We could assemble whole clouds of them at will, 
by throwing crumbs of bread from our windows. They 
are treated with the utmost kindness and respect by the 
Venetians. No one ever alarms or disturbs them. Thus 
has it been from the remotest period of the history of 
Venice. 

After dinner we visited the famous Cathedral Church 
of St. Mark, and were long occupied in studying out its 
ancient mosaics and sculptured marble, and in admiring 
its strange and marvellous architecture. It was com- 
menced in the tenth century by one of the doges, and 
completed in about a hundred years. Both the exterior 
and the interior are incrusted with rich mosaics, or bronze, 
or marble, or gold. The roof on the inside is almost 
one blaze of gold ; the floor is paved with jasper and 
porphyry ; and the columns which support the roof and 
domes, and decorate the chapels, to the number of five 
hundred, are made of marble, of bronze, of alabaster, 
and of verd antique. Every portion of the immense 
edifice is of corresponding richness and magnificence. 
And why, it may be asked, all this outlay of labor and 
of money ? Why have doges, and merchants, and me- 
chanics, and painters, and sculptors combined together 
to build and to adorn one of the most costly temples in 
the world ? It was simply to erect a monument to a 
great man, — not a king, nor a conqueror, nor an orator, 

— but to a disciple and an apostle of Jesus Christ, and 
through the disciple to honor the Master. In all ages, 
more especially in the middle, or ages of faith, have men 
thus generously and piously brought their treasures, and 



VENICE. 223 

poured them out upon the altar of God. And if some 
men are found who carp and cavil, and ask. Why was 
not all this sold and given to the poor ? we should 
remember that such belong to the family and sentiments 
of Judas, who afterwards betrayed his Lord — and Judas 
was a thief. God grant that they may not resemble him 
in their death. 

The bell tower, or campanile, which is one of the high- 
est in Europe, gives from its summit a fine view of Venice, 
and its port and shipping, and the neighboring coasts. 
This view seemed to me more like a fairy dream than 
reality. There lay a vast sea, smooth as a mirror, and a 
vast city floating on its bosom, whole blocks of build- 
ings, ranges of storehouses, ancient and superb palaces, 
churches surmounted by domes, graceful towers with 
chimes of bells, architectural marvels, altogether bizarre 
and strange, and of various styles, Armenian, Greek, 
Arabian, Byzantine, &c. All these, on which may be 
read a history of centuries and of nations, — 

" Rising like water columns from the sea," — 

cannot fail to produce an impression on the beholder that 
years will not obliterate. 

During the few days that we remained in Venice, 
we visited all the principal churches, the Armenian 
Convent of St. Lazare, the Ducal Palace, the Accademia 
delle Belle Arti, and the Armenian College for boys. 

In the Church of Santa Maria della Salute are three 
fine paintings by Titian. In Sa. Maria dei Frari are sev- 
eral splendid sepulchral monuments. In the venerable 
Church of St. Pietro is a marble chair with arms, sup- 
posed to have been used by St. Peter at Antioch, and the 



224 CHUECHES. 

celebrated painting by Bellucci, of St. Lawrence Justinian 
Patriarch, of Venice, delivering the city from the plague. 
The memory of St. Lawrence is still held in veneration, 
and every Catholic traveller visits his tomb. Elevated 
to the episcopate, despite his protestations and his tears, 
he was at once the Vincent de Paul and the Charles 
Borromeo of his diocese and of his age. Always hum- 
ble in the midst of honors, always poor in the midst of 
riches, he had but one ambition ; it was to be an imitator 
of Christ. During his last illness, seeing the servants 
preparing a better bed than the straw one to which he 
had been used, "What are you doing ?" said he ; ^'are 
you preparing a feather bed for me ? It is useless. 
Our Lord was stretched upon a hard and painful cross ; 
and who am I that I should die upon a bed ?" He died 
upon a little straw. San Giorgio Maggiore is a gorgeous 
eburch, in the form of a Latin cross, adorned with 
eleven chapels, and several paintings by Tintoretto. It 
was in this church that Pius VII. was consecrated pope, 
at a time when the enemies of religion thought to have 
had it all their own way ; at a time when the final doM^n- 
fall of the church was supposed, to have been effected, 
and, by the dispersion of the Sacred College, a conclave 
was deemed impossible. But God had decreed other- 
wise, and set at nought the vain calculations of men. 
No sooner had Pius VI. breathed his last than suddenly 
the storm that threatened to burst upon the world ceased 
— the clouds cleared away — the French were driven 
from Italy — the sun burst forth in the zenith, and shone 
on Venice — and the conclave assembled in Venice — 
and Pius VII. was consecrated in San Giorgio. 

In the Church of Sa. Maria di Giglio we observed the 



VENICE. 225 

following inscription over the tomb of a distinguished 
Venetian lawyer : — 

Petrus . Antonius . Ordanus . 

Civis . Yenetus . 

Et . in . hoc . foro . causarum . patronus 

Vigilantissimus . 

Hie . solus . quiescit . 

Tubae . horrorem . expectans . 

Ob . 1697 . ^t . 67. 

TRANSLATION. 

Peter Antony Ordanus, 

A Venetian, 

And known in the Courts of Venice 

as a shrewd lawyer, 

rests here, all alone, awaiting 

the horrid sound of the last trump. 

Died 1697, aged 67. 

Poor soul ! Whatever may have been his delin- 
quences, let us charitably hope that they were merely 
professional, and that after all that '' sound " may not be 
to him so " horrid " as his pious friends seemed to have 
predicted when they composed his epitaph. 

Ilich in churches and palaces, Venice is also rich in 
her institutions of charity. There are orphan asylums 
for both sexes. The Casa di Ricovero contains four 
hundred aged persons. There are two hospitals for the 
sick and infirm, one capable of containing a thousand, 
the other fourteen hundred sick. The hospital of the 
Brothers of St. John of God has nine hundred beds. 



226 CONVENT OF ST. LAZARE. 

seven hundred of which are appropriated to foreigners 
They do not seem to dread the presence of foreign poor, 
but rather invite them by their kindness and hospitaUty. 
The House of Industry gives employment, and the 
means of earning a subsistence, to about five hundred 
able-bodied indigent persons. The Foundling Hospital 
receives annually four thousand infants. Besides these 
there are innumerable other institutions of charity, both 
public and private, the entire expense of supporting 
them amoxinting annually to not less than seven hun- 
dred thousand dollars — nearly double the amount ex- 
pended for the like objects in the whole city of Paris.* 

We visited the glass works. Some of the richest and 
most beautiful fancy glass ware in the world is manu- 
factured in Venice. We saw them making mantel and 
table ornaments, and beads of every variety of color 
and size. 

The same day we visited the island and convent of 
St. Lazare. The island is level, and covered with gar- 
dens, in a high state of cultivation, in the midst of 
which appears the convent. Every thing about the 
building was perfectly plain and neat. The good re- 
ligious find occupation in their daily office, in teaching 
Armenian youth, and in those literary pursuits which have 
rendered them so celebrated. A kind and intelligent 
monk, with a fiowing black beard, showed us every part 
of the establishment with the greatest civility. The 
library contains a good collection of general literature, 
and is ornamented with a splendid bust of the founder, 
by Canova. 

* Les Trois, Rome, v. iii. p 523. 



MILAN. 227 



MILAN. 



From Venice to Milan we travelled by railroad 
through a country more luxuriant and fertile than any 
we had yet seen. Milan is a large and beautiful city, 
about twelve miles in circumference, and containing 
about one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants ; yet, 
though we remained several days with nothing to do 
but to walk about, or ride, there was nothing in Milan 
that left a lasting impression upon us, except its magni- 
ficent cathedral. Erected in the heart of the city, it 
occupies a large portion of the grand piazza. It is a 
Gothic structure, of white marble. For statuary, and 
delicate, complicated carving, it stands preeminent, the 
queen of all the churches in the world. Unlike St. 
Peter's, the roof is supported by many columns, fifty in 
number, but which, though of the clustered style, are so 
exceeding slender, that they conceal no part of the edi- 
fice, but give clear and full range to the vision of the 
visitor. The pavement is of marble, of various colors. 
The number of statues in the church and on the outside 
exceeds four thousand. Each of these statues is wrought 
with exquisite skill, and will bear a close and critical in- 
spection. The marble of this cathedral is not a mere 
crust, or veneering, but it is solid material. The entire 
edifice is built, floored, vaulted, and roofed with the 
whitest marble that could be obtained with gold. In a 
word, the cathedral of Milan is a quarry of white mar- 
ble, exquisitely wrought in every part, and covered with 
a forest of slender and graceful spires. Its erection 
was commenced in 1386, and is not yet completed. A 
yearly appropriation is made by the Austrian govern- 



228 YANKEE INVENTION. 

ment to continue the work. Next to St. Peter's at 
Eome it is probably the most beautiful church in the 
world. Its length in the interior is four hundred and 
fifty feet, and the width of the transept two hundred 
and seventy-five feet. From the floor to the summit of 
the dome is three hundred and seventy feet. 

No one can form an adequate conception of the pains 
taken to embellish this wonderful temple, and of the 
real motives which prompted and guided such wonderful 
eflforts, till he shall have ascended to the roof, and gazed 
upon that forest of spires and multitude of statues, 
among which he seems to dwindle into an atom. Here, 
in an obscure corner, which perhaps the eye of man 
never before penetrated, and never will again, is a statue, 
or moulding, or cornice, or fretwork, of such exquisite 
finish, that if exhibited by itself it would attract thou- 
sands of visitors, and give a princely fortune to its pro- 
prietor. Yet there it stands, and has stood for centuries 
— not because man was to admire and praise it, but 
solely because God would always see it. Conscious that 
such an eye would ever rest upon it, the pious artist 
did the best he could. 

Among the numerous hassi rilievi which adorn the 
front, we were fortunate enough to discover a Yankee 
invention, and a very old one too ; for, from its appear- 
ance and history, it must have been there for many cen- 
turies. It was a marble sculpture of a well, with the 
whole apparatus of chain buckets, recently introduced 
among us as a new invention, and patented in Washing- 
ton. If any future traveller desires to see it, he will 
find it on the lower tablet of one of the principal pilas- 
ters, on the right hand side of the main entrance. 

Immediately under the dome is a subterranean chapel. 



MILAN. 229 

in whicli lies the body of St. Charles Borromeo. We 
were permitted to see the body. It is extended at full 
length, under an altar, in the episcopal robes, and with 
the crosier and mitre. The face is still in a good state 
of preservation. 

If ever, since the apostolic age, there has existed a 
bishop who was a model for that venerable order, and 
an acting example of every Christian virtue, that bishop 
was St. Charles. Distinguished above all his contempora- 
ries for princely rank, polite accomplishments, talents, 
learning, and simple, unostentatious piety, at the early 
age of twenty-three he was elevated to the rank of 
cardinal and archbishop — Archbishop of Milan, one of 
the most important and splendid cities of modern Europe. 
Yet, at this ambitious age, he was without ambition ; at 
this youthful age, he was mature and wise ; at this age 
of dissipation and frivolity, he was thoughtful, serious, 
self-denying, and wholly devoted to God. To the sim- 
plicity of a child were united, in St. Charles, the mod- 
esty, and gravity, and holiness, of a venerable patriarch. 
He was a bishop, and therefore felt himself called to 
be the father, and the brother, and the servant, of each 
member of his flock. He infused his own pure and 
zealous spirit into the clergy of his diocese ; he estab- 
lished seminaries for the people and for the clergy ; he 
gathered his clergy about him every year in a religious 
retreat, where they received lessons and instructions for 
the discharge of their duties, which they never forgot ; 
he founded schools, colleges, and hospitals ; and when 
the plague burst upon the ill-fated city of Milan, he came 
forth in all his heroic grandeur, and attended personally 
to his sick and dying flock ; when no one else dared to 
succor and soothe the dying, when parents fled in dis- 
20 



230 ST. CHARLES BOREOMEO. 

may from their children, and children forsook their in- 
fected parents, St. Charles was omnipresent, administer- 
ing the consolations of religion, and serving the deserted 
victims with his own hands. 

St. Charles also established Sunday schools in every 
parish of his vast diocese — Sunday schools, which we 
of the present age complacently imagine are an inven- 
tion of our own, and which Protestants would fain be- 
lieve to be an invention of theirs. These schools are 
still in full and energetic operation, divided into classes, 
and instructed in Christian doctrine by priests, and 
laymen, and laywomen. Every traveller may behold 
them, if he will but visit the cathedral and other 
churches, on any Sunday in the year. 

St. Charles lived in a palace suited to his rank and 
station ; but the raggedest mendicant was as welcome to 
his hospitality as the wealthiest lord. His table was 
spread with every luxury, for the entertainment of his 
guests ; for himself, his food was of the coarsest, as he 
lived chiefly on bread and fruit, and fasted often. He 
was possessed of wealth, but his charities were almost 
incredible. Besides the colleges, hospitals, and schools 
without number, which he founded and endowed at his 
own expense, he gave annually to the poor thirty thou- 
sand crowns ; and on various occasions of famine, and 
plague, and the ravages of war, he gave at least two 
hundred thousand crowns more. 

St, Charles died at the early age of forty-six, '' his 
eye not dim, nor his force abated ; " neither fatigued by 
toil nor enfeebled by austerities ; venerated by . every 
member of his vast flock, not only as their chief pastor, 
a model of every heroic virtue, but as their friend, 
father, and benefactor. 



MILAN. 231 

On the festival of Corpus Christi, we celebrated Mass 
in the subterranean chapel, over the body of St. Charles. 
Afterwards we assisted at High Mass, which was cele- 
brated by the archdeacon, in presence of the archbishop 
and his chapter. All the canons wore mitres. The rite 
was the Ambrosian. It differs in many respects from the 
Roman rite, and the ceremonies are far more numerous, 
and to us appeared more complicated. The liturgy of 
the church of Milan was remodelled and arranged by 
St. Ambrose, who lived in the fourth century — that 
century of pure, uncorrupted faith, claimed by Protes- 
tants as theirs. Yet this liturgy was more gorgeous and 
ceremonious in the fourth century than the Roman is in 
the nineteenth. 

After Mass we followed the procession of the Blessed 
Sacrament, through the principal streets of the city, to 
the Church of St. Ambrose, a venerable and ancient 
structure, said to have been the church in which St. Am- 
brose formerly officiated. It was here that the youthful 
Augustine, then a dissipated young man of the world, 
afterwards one of the greatest saints, was wont to re- 
pair, in order to admire the eloquence of Ambrose ; and 
it was under his preaching that he was converted, and 
by him that he was baptized. The great antiquity of 
this church is evidenced by the fact that the pavement 
of the church is several feet lower than the grounds all 
around it, so that one must descend a flight of steps to 
enter it. Under the high altar lies the body of St. 
Ambrose. 

St. Ambrose was every inch a bishop. His indom- 
itable firmness, his unquailing nerve, his moral courage, 
his meekness, humility, and charity, have never been 
surpassed since the days of the apostles. The Em- 



232 ST. AIvIE-ROSE. 

peror Theodosius trembled like Felix -wlien tte holy 
bishop reproved hhn for his crimes, and humbled him- 
self to the earth when the saint exhorted him to repent- 
ance. The other churches of Milan, of which there are 
a great number, have nothing remarkable to attract the 
attention or excite the admiration of the stranger, unless 
we except that of St. Ambrose, which is one of the 
most venerable monuments of Christian antiquity. It 
was founded so early as the year 387. We stood for 
some time in the large quadrangular portico, admiring 
the frescoes and statues. There was the very threshold 
at which St. Ambrose had rebuked the Emperor Theo- 
dosius, and refused to admit him into the church. Ar- 
rayed in the imperial purple, Theodosius came, according 
to his custom, to the church. A little previous, however, 
news had arrived of a horrible massacre perpetrated by 
the emperor's orders, in which several thousand persons 
had been cruelly butchered. St. Ambrose went to the 
church door to meet him, and forbade him any further 
entrance, saying, " It appears, sir, that you do not 
rightly apprehend the enormity of the crime that has 
been perpetrated by your orders. Let not the splendor 
of your purple robes prevent your recognizing the in- 
firmities of that flesh which they cover. Remember 
that you are cast in the same mould with those subjects 
that have been intrusted to your care. There is but 
one Lord and Emperor of the world. How dare you 
then presume to enter his courts, and lift up before him 
those hands, red with the blood of the guiltless ? Go 
then, sir, and seek not to aggravate your crime by the 
commission of another." "But David also sinned," 
replied the emperor, seeking an excuse for his conduct. 
" Yes," answered the bishop, " David sinned, but he 



THE ALPS, 233 

did penance for his sin. Go thou, and do likewise.'* 
Theodosius submitted, accepted the penance prescribed 
by the church, and meekly retired to his palace, where, 
with many tears, and in penitential weeds, he passed 
eight months in retreat, excluded from all participation 
of the sacraments. Such were the character and conduct 
of a bishop in those early days of Christianity, and such 
of a Roman emperor ! The same emperor afterwards 
paid the following splendid tribute to the virtues of St. 
Ambrose : " Surrounded with flatterers, I have found 
but one man who kas dared to speak to me the truth. I 
know but one true bishop in the world — that is Am- 
brose." 



CHAPTER IX, 

THE ALPS. 



From Milan to Geneva we travelled in a vettura, with 
a German vetturino, who understood and spoke the 
French language. A traveller, who desires to obtain 
information, and, at the same time, to enjoy himself, 
should always travel in this way, when his course lies 
through an interesting country. Our vetturino made all 
our bargains, and paid all our bills ; and he proved to be 
an honest man and a just steward. The first night, we 
slept at Arona, on the border of Lago Maggiore. . On 
the following morning, at six o'clock, we started off on 
horses, to behold the colossal statue of St. Charles 
Borromeo. It was placed on the summit of a lofty emi- 
nence. It is of bronze, and gigantic in its proportions. 
The head is capacious enough to hold four men. The 
entire statue is seventy feet high, and stands upon a 

go* 



234 PERILOUS ASCENT. 

marble pedestal nearly fifty feet liigli. It represents the 
saint in his episcopal robes, as turned towards Milan, 
and with uplifted arm imploring benedictions upon its 
inhabitants. 

As we approached, the custode advanced to meet us, 
inquiring whether we desired to ascend into the statue. 
" To be sure we do," was our reply ; supposing all 
the time that there was an interior stairway, as in the 
tower of Pisa. But what must have been our horror at 
beholding approach an awful ladder, fifty feet in length, 
borne upon the shoulders of three lirawny men. With 
much ado they erected it against the pedestal, and in- 
vited us to ascend. "We looked aghast at the fearful 
height, and my friend positively declined hazarding his 
life on the ladder. I resolved, for once, to be bold and 
venturesome ; so I made a desperate rush at the ladder, 
and before I had time to be alarmed I was safely landed 
on the top of the pedestal, and at the feet of the statue ; 
which, as I gazed up upon it, resembled much the side 
of a brass house. " Dove si va adesso ? " I inquired, 
with some misgivings, looking for a door of entrance, 
buc finding none. " C'e un altra scala" was the alarm- 
ing response. Another ladder ! Sure enough ; another 
ladder was in process of erection nearly as long as the 
first, and the top of it was just below an aperture under 
the rochet of the archbishop. One of the men planted 
himself behind it, and grasped the rounds, to prevent 
its slipping off the pedestal. " Sali, signor, salV 
" Basta," roared I, and began descending as fast as I 
could. In vain they cry after me to come back. I 
mount no more ladders. I soon found myself on terra 
firma, to the great joy of my friend, who had been an- 
ticipating my untimely obsequies. 

The same day we rpde along the lovely banks of Lago 



THE ALPS. 235 

Maggiore, one of the largest and most beautiful of all 
the Italian lakes. At Boveno we remained long enough 
to make an excursion to the Borromean Islands. These 
are justly regarded as the chief ornaments of the lake. 
The Isola San Giovanni is the largest, and is compara- 
tively uninhabited. The Isola Piscatoria is covered 
with houses, and, as its name imports, is inhabited 
chiefly by fishermen. As we approached it, casting its 
distinct image in the water, it presented a view altogether 
lovely. The Isola Bella is the most famous and the 
most attractive to travellers, who visit it for the double 
purpose of seeing the palace which stands upon it, and 
of criticising the gardens which cover it. Once upon a 
time a certain guide book assured its readers that the 
gardens of Isola Bella were more beautiful than those 
of paradise ; and in the following year an opposition 
guide book averred with equal assurance that they were 
mere grotesque inventions of bunglers, and not worth 
the seeing. Ever since, all travellers feel bound to visit 
them, and to take sides with the one or the other opinion. 
The palace contains some valuable paintings, and many 
curious old portraits of the Borromean family. The 
grounds are laid out with great ingenuity, and are orna- 
mented with plants and trees from every part of the 
world, and trimmed into the most remarkable forms. 
Nothing could be more beautiful than the view from 
some of the terraces. The Isola Madre is, in some 
respects, finer than the Isola Bella. The gardens are • 
less artificial. One side is occupied by terraces, the 
other is covered with wood. Its summit is crowned with 
a villa, at present uninhabited except by a custode who 
takes care of the grounds, and shows them to visitors. 
At Feriolo we rested for two hours, and engaged a boat, 
and sailed and fished upon the lake. 



236 MILITAEY ROADS OF NAPOLEON. 

We continued our journey on Napoleon's great mili- 
tary road, through the valley of La Toce, one of the 
most charming valleys of the Alpine solitudes. It is 
encompassed by mighty piles of mountains, Alps on 
Alps arising, whose summits penetrated into the clouds. 
Towards evening we saw an Alpine rainbow, which 
described an entire arch on a mountain on our right, 
about half a mile distant. The same evening, about 
seven o'clock, we reached Domo cfOssola, a pretty 
town, set in among the mountains. 

The following morning we set forth in a flood of rain, 
which continued all day. But though our coach win- 
dows were closed, our eyes were wide open. During 
the whole day we were on the great military road con- 
structed by Napoleon I., surrounded by gigantic moun- 
tains, from four to twelve thousand feet above the level 
of the sea. We rode along, and sometimes over, per- 
pendicular chasms, miles in extent, and thousands of 
feet deep. E-oaring torrents were foaming and leaping 
down whole mountains in two or three plunges, some 
vaulting over the pass we were traversing, others cross- 
ing the road under our feet. Many of them descended 
from such vast heights that they appeared to be pouring 
out of .the very clouds which concealed the summits of 
the mountains fr'om which they sprang. We passed the 
night in the village of Simplon. 

On the following morning, at an early hour, we 
resumed our journey, and continued to ascend the Sim- 
plon. As we ascended the air became every moment 
colder, and vegetation became more and more scanty, 
till it ceased altogether. The mountains all around and 
above us were covered with snow, and the glaciers glis- 
tened through the lifting foar. 



THE ALPS, 237 

At nine o'clock, A. M., we arrived at the monastery in- 
habited by the good monks of St. Bernard, so famous in 
the history of philanthropy. These monks are a colony 
from the mother establishment on the Great St. Bernard. 
They give hospitality to all travellers who demand it, 
whether rich or poor, and ask for no compensation ; 
though they do not refuse to accept alms, which they 
throw into the common fund for the support of the estab- 
lishment. We rang the bell, and were immediately 
conducted to the kitchen, where there was a rousing 
coal fire in a large stove. The fire was most grateful, as 
we were chilled with cold, though in the middle of sum- 
mer. Six or eight poor peasants were also there, eating 
their breakfast. Meanwhile the brothers were preparing 
a repast for us, though we had not asked it. When it 
was ready we were invited to the refectory, where we 
partook of an excellent breakfast of toast and butter, 
cofiee and boiled milk. All their provisions are brought 
from Domo d'Ossola, in the valley at the foot of the 
mountain, from which it requires nine hours to ascend 
in a carriage. The superior of the convent sat with us 
at table. He is intelligent, young, and handsome. He 
is of a ruddy and healthy countenance, and his hair is 
glossy and jet black. Yet he has passed twenty years 
of his life upon this mountain, and appears perfectly 
contented with the lot that God has cast for him. He 
has no desire to change his state, and no wish to leave 
the cold and cheerless summit on which he is perdhed. 
He is a learned man, and well versed in the history of 
the nations ; but his world is within him, and immedi- 
ately about him, and there is to him the source of happi- 
ness and peace. " Godliness with contentment," says 
the apostle, ''is great gain." That gain is his, and it is 
great indeed. He seeks in this world no other. 



238 DOGS OF ST. BERNARD. 

He conducted us about the monastery, and showed us 
most of its apartments. The chambers prepared for 
travellersj of which there are about twenty, are fur- 
nished with exquisite taste and neatness, and are per- 
fectly clean, and fit for any gentleman or gentleman's 
family. They would do credit to a hotel of the first class. 

We also saw and caressed the famous dogs, of which 
the monks carefully preserve the breed. They are of 
about the size of the Newfoundland dog. Their color 
is a mixture of brown and white, though the brown al- 
ways predominates. These dogs are admirably trained. 
There is nothing in their nature .fierce. They are not 
watch dogs. All strangers, whether in sleek broadcloth 
or in tatters, are treated by them with equal considera- 
tion. They are not even tinctured with pride or human 
respect. When we approached the door of the con- 
vent, two of them came forth to meet us, wagging their 
tails, and saying, plainly enough, " Good morning, gen- 
tlemen. It's rather cold ; won't you walk into the house 
and rest you, and take a little breakfast ? No trouble — 
all is ready — walk in." They had done the same for 
the poor, half-clad peasants who had preceded us. On 
ordinary occasions they appear very dull and sleepy ; but 
in midwinter, and when the mountain blasts are tearing 
up trees by their roots, and the terrible avalanches of 
snow and ice are thundering and rushing down the 
cliffs, and the pitiless storm is pelting, and the exhausted 
traveller is exerting vain efforts to breast the storm and 
find a temporary shelter, then it is that these dogs are 
thoroughly aroused. Then their shaggy hair rises on 
their backs ; then they whine and bark ; then they 
run to and fro, excited by the howling of the Alpine 
storm ; and when at last let loose, rush madly down the 



THE ALPS. 239 

mountain side, seeking the perishing traveller in the 
snow drifts, or among the cliffs and rocks, affording him 
timely assistance and refreshment, and by their peculiar 
howl signifying to the monks who follow where a fellow- 
man in distress demands succor. 

The superior informed us that from ten to eleven 
thousand travellers annually receive hospitality at the 
convent. The cold in winter is excessive, and the win- 
ter is very long. The mild weather continues only two 
or three months, not long enough to ripen any thing, 
unless, perhaps, a few turnips. The thermometer falls 
to 20° of Eeaumur. The snow falls to about seven or 
eight feet on the level, and when the winds blow, which 
is for the greater portion of the year, the drifts are ter- 
rible. Then it is that the mountain traveller hastens to 
the nearest refuge, to seek shelter from the stormy blasts 
and gathering drifts.* Then come thundering down the 
avalanches, shaking the mountain like an earthquake, 
tearing up the trees, carrying away rocks, and burying 
the habitations of men. 

In 1849 the monks of St, Bernard were awakened at 
midnight by a terrible roaring, and, before they had 
time to dress, an immense avalanche had descended 
from a portion of the mountain which rises four or five 
thousand feet in the rear of the convent, and came, dash, 
against the building, breaking all the windows on that 
side, filling the chambers and chapel with snow, and 
burying the entire building. Fortunately, it was of 
stone, with massive walls, six feet thick, a square body. 



* The refuges are small stone buildings, well furnished with every thing 
that can conduce to the comfort of the shivering and exhausted traveller. 
They have been erected by the monks, at intervals of about half a mile, all 
along the mountain pass. 



240 PHILANTHROPISTS. 

with two oblong wings, only two stories and a half high, 
or it might have been swept entirely away. The same 
night there came another avalanche, which, striking upon 
a huge rock, glanced off, struck one end of the convent, 
then dashed forward, and carried away a sawmill and 
some other buildings, and then discharged itself into the 
yawning valley below. 

Thus live these holy monks from year to year. Amid 
perpetual snows, and storms, and cold, and peril, they 
are ever calm and happy. True philanthropists, they live 
and toil only for their fellow-men. They make no 
boasts nor loud pretensions ; they have no idle and vapid 
theories ; they publish no papers nor annual reports ; 
they banter no words with those who persecute them ; 
they do not thank God that they are not like other men, 
extortioners, plunderers, and slave dealers ; neither do 
they sneer at publicans, and prate proudly of " wine- 
bibbers." Yet they are true philanthropists. They 
love all men as their brothers, be they white or black. 
Catholic, Protestant, or infidel. They desire to do good 
to all alike ; and to find the occasion of so doing, they 
pass their lives in the midst of eternal snows, forego 
the verdant fields, the balmy breeze, and the luxuries 
of a genial climate. Good monks, happy monks, if 
ever I was tempted to bid adieu forever to home, and 
country, and friends, it was during my brief sojourn 
with you ; for I did long to tarry with you, and take 
part in your glorious work of love, and share your 
future crown. 

Descending the mountain we enjoyed a glorious view 
of the glaciers on every side, glistening under the 
beams of the morning sun. The snow lay in immense 
fields all around us, and banks and drifts, from five to 



GENEVA. 241 

ten feet in depth, lay along the roadside under our feet. 
Soon, however, we found ourselves in a warmer climate, 
and at two o'clock we were almost broiled under the 
rays of a burning sun in the little village of Brigue, 
where we dined. 

For the two succeeding days we were riding along 
the banks of the Rhone and of Lake Leman, gigantic 
mountains on either side, most of them capped with 
snow and ice. 

But I cannot leave the description of this ever to be 
remembered journey without a favorable and grateful 
mention of all the hotels, without a single exception, at 
which we slept. The most remarkable thing about them 
was their exceeding cleanliness and comfort. The sheets, 
pillow cases, bed curtains, and window curtains were as 
white as the snow on the mountain summits. The floors 
were without a spot or stain. The servants were kind, 
respectful, and all attention. What a contrast to the 
selfish, comfortless taverns of New England ! 



CHAPTEE X 

GENEVA. 



On the seventh day from our departure from Milan, 
at two o'clock in the afternoon, we arrived at Geneva, 
and descended at the Hotel des Bergues. This is a first 
class hotel, and consequently most inhospitable and un- 
comfortable. All the charges were exorbitant, from a 
beefsteak to a boot black. There were sponging, pre- 
tension, and cheating to any extent. As an act of charity, 
we would warn all travellers against it. 
21 



242 SUNDAY. 

There is nothing to be seen in Geneva. It is a well- 
built, thriving city. The inhabitants have been munifi- 
cently rewarded for their shameful apostasy from the 
faith of their fathers. They have " much goods laid up 
for many years." They can " eat, drink, and be merry." 
They are engaged in commerce, and are much addicted 
to the accumulation of wealth. In this they succeed. 
There are no beggars in Geneva. Our Lord said to his 
disciples, " The poor you have with you always." But 
the Genevese have no poor with them. Poverty is a 
crime in Geneva. It was made such by John Calvin, 
the reformer ; for he, like Juda?, ^' was a thief, and 
carried the bag." His economy suggested that poor 
people exhausted the wealth of a nation. Hence pover- 
ty was proscribed, and money became the great end of 
all human efforts and advancement. He had forgotten 
the old story about Lazarus and Dives, and the present 
inhabitants of Geneva appear never to have heard of it. 
I verily believe that if the former should be permitted 
to appear on the sidewalks of Geneva, he would be 
pelted with stones or ancient eggs, while he ''in purple 
and fine linen " would be almost deified. Happily, the 
beggar " dies," and is borne upward by " angels ; " but 
the " rich man " dies also, and is " buried in hell." The 
one is " comforted," the other " tormented." 

Pifty years since there were but three or four hundred 
Catholics in Geneva. There are now fifteen thousand. 
They have^but one church, but are now erecting another, 
very large and beautiful. In order to build this second 
church it was necessary to obtain an express act of the 
Council of Geneva, as the laws allow Catholics but 
one church in the city. Such is the legislation of 
" liberal " Christianity ! Suppose that the Catholics of 



GENEVA. ■ 213 

Maryland had enacted a law forbidding the erection of 
bnt one Protestant church in the city of Baltimore ; when 
should we have heard the last of invective and abuse ? 

We passed a Sunday in Geneva. We supposed that 
it would have been very decorously and scrupulously 
observed, especially as all the comeliness and grace of 
Protestantism consists in its external appearance. But 
we were disappointed. The first sound that aroused us 
in the morning was that of the discharge of cannons, and 
bands of martial music. There was a grand parade of 
the military, and half the people of Geneva were in the 
streets, hastening to enjoy the spectacle. . The Sunday is 
selected for this sort of display because on week days 
all have more important occupations — those of getting 
gain. Drays and teams of all sorts were also in the 
streets, carrying stones, and lumber, and other building 
materials ; and all kinds of pedlers were hawking their 
wares, and fruits, and fancy articles. 

The environs of Geneva are not remarkably beautiful. 
There are some villas, and green fields, and pleasant 
" rides ; " but they are nothing in comparison with the 
" country seats," gardens, orchards, hills, and valleys 
which make the environs of Boston superior to any other 
city of the world ? The only natural object of interest 
that gives to Geneva a superiority over Boston is the 
majestic, mysterious, indescribable Mont Blanc, which, 
though many miles distant, is, in clear weather, distinctly 
seen from every quarter. I have often read and heard 
men talk of the sublime in nature ; but though I have 
crossed the ocean several times, and have seen the stormy 
billows roll, and then sleeping in peaceful calm, — though 
I have stood for hours contemplating the torrent of Ni- 
agara, and have walked over the burning stones of Mount 



244 LAKE LEMAN, 

Vesuvius, and stood on the. edge of its frightful crater, 
— I must avow that I never had conceived an idea of 
the sublime that so completely filled my soul as when I 
gazed on the snowy, solitary summit of Mont Blanc 
There he stands, his head whitened with the frosts of 
many winters, and there he will stand till the consum- 
mation of time, in solitary grandeur. He heeds not the 
lightning's flash nor the thunder's roar. The bright 
sunbeams and the pelting storms are all alike to him. 
He is ever the same — his head in the heavens, and his 
richly-fringed garments sweeping the earth. Yet he is 
not always still and silent. Sometimes he shoots the 
avalanche, " the thunderbolt of snow." He forms and 
slowly launches forth into the world the glaciers, those 
strange, self-moving, colossal ships of solid ice. Some- 
times he shouts aloud, as only echoing Alps can shout, 
when 

" Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
Leaps the live thvin.ier." 

No human footsteps have ever trod that summit. No 
voices of men were ever heard there. No crimes were 
ever there committed. What a spot for angels to come 
together and hold a conference ! 

As to the Lake of Geneva, we were not very deeply 
impressed with its beauties. It is a comfortable-looking 
sheet of water, about as large as a medium-sized pond in 
the States, though it is said to be very furious when 
excited. There are some pretty villas along the banks, 
and a few small towns or villages. " Lake Leman wooes 
me with its crystal face," is good poetrj^, but to me was 
not reality. There was nothing in, on, or about the lake 
that was either striking, fascinating, or even attractive. 



GENEVA. 245 

Even the fishes are very tasteless, and not over abun- 
dant, if we could judge from those that were placed on 
our table. Had it been the lenten season, I fear that we 
should have suffered acutely from the pangs of hungei*. 

We made an excursion in vettura to Annecey, in 
order to visit the tomb of St. Francis of Sales. About 
midway we crossed a magnificent suspension bridge, 
thrown over a chasm more than six hundred feet in 
depth. We descended from our carriage, and leaned 
over the rail of the' bridge. There was a river flowing 
through the chasm, but it appeared like a thread of sil- 
ver. We threw over a small block of wood ; seventeen 
seconds had elapsed by the watch when it reached the 
bottom. Our vetturino then went in search of stones, 
and brought some as large as a man's head. These we 
dropped into the river, and by the time they reached it 
they seemed reduced to the size of a hen's egg ; and if 
by chance they struck a rock, they were broken into a 
small cloud of dust, and after a few seconds made a re- 
port like that of a rifle. 

Arrived at Annecey, our first visit was to the Episcopal 
Palace. The bishop, Mgr. Rendu, is a learned and holy 
prelate, whose writings are much esteemed in the Cath- 
olic world. He received and entertained us with great 
kindness and affability. 

On the following day, by permission of the bishop, 
we celebrated Mass in the chapel of the first Convent of 
the Visitation, founded by St. Francis and St. Chantal, 
whose bodies are preserved entire in the chapel. These 
bodies we saw and venerated. The good nuns invited 
us to breakfast, after which they presented each of us 
with relics of these great saints, which we shall ever re- 
tain as a precious memento of our visit to Annecey. 
21* 



246 ST. FRANCIS OF SALES. 

St. Francis of Sales appears to have been raised up 
by the almighty hand of God for the special purpose 
of checking and neutralizing the poisonous infection of 
Calvinism, which was overflowing Geneva, and pouring 
into the neighboring districts. He was the oldest son 
of one of the noblest and most influential families in the 
country ; yet he possessed a sweetness of disposition that 
endeared him to every one, and a humility and meekness 
that elicited universal admiration. He was the heir not 
only of high and honorable titles, but also of a princely 
fortune ; yet he had no love for either, except so far as 
they could aid him in the accomplishment of his un- 
yielding resolution to consecrate himself entirely and 
forever to God. He was possessed of vast, profound, 
and varied erudition, acquired in the best colleges in 
Europe, and under the guidance of the most celebrated 
scholars of the sixteenth century ; yet he was kind, and 
afiable, and agreeable to all — to the most ignorant as to 
the most learned. He was dignified and beautiful in his 
person, elegant and accomplished in his manners, and 
cool and unerring in his judgment ; yet he was never 
vain, never repulsive, never uncharitable. Of an ardent 
temperament, and zealous for the salvation of souls, he 
plunged into religion as into a refreshing river destined 
to bear him to the City of God ; yet he was no fanatic 
nor enthusiast ; his end was before him as a star shining, 
and his eye was ever upon it. Hence, when his parents 
had formed for him a matrimonial alliance with a daugh- 
ter of a wealthy baron, — a counsellor of state, — he 
refused it. "When offered a seat in the Senate by the 
Duke of Savoy, he refused it. When told that his rank 
and inheritance entitled him to worldly honor and power, 
he offered to surrender his birthright. 



GENEVA. 247 

Elevated, in consequence of so many virtues and tal- 
ents, to the dignity of tlie priesthood, he applied himself, 
■with all the energy and ardor of his character, to the 
duties of his high calling. Without money, without 
scrip, without servants, and on foot, he set forth on his 
mission of peace, to preach the gospel of peace and 
reconciliation. But the people to whom he came re- 
fused peace. War was in his path. On his right hand, 
war ; on his left, war. He was refused a shelter from 
the piercing cold. Not a crust nor a cup of water would 
they give him, though he asked it for the love of God. 
His life was threatened, and repeatedly sought. But at 
length his meekness, patience, sweetness, and charity 
gained him the victory over all. 

As is usually the case, the work of conversion com- 
menced among the Catholics themselves. Then the 
Protestants, seeing the marvellous change wrought in 
them, naturally directed their attention towards him 
who had been the instrument of effecting so much good. 
They called to mind the many good examples he had 
given in his life and conversation, — his charity and for- 
giving spirit, his angelic virtues, his patient suffering, 
his incredible pains to do good to a people who had re- 
paid him with insult and outrage, — and they at last 
felt convinced that his must be the religion of the meek 
and suffering Jesus. The Calvinists had assiduously 
taught them that Catholics were idolaters — that they 
paid divine honor to the Virgin Mary — that they 
adored the saints and prayed to images — that by their 
traditions they annulled the Scriptures — that they de- 
nied the atonement by Christ — and many other things 
equally detestable ; but Francis, in his pubhc discourses, 
full of unction and eloquence, showed clearly and to 



248 ST. FEANCIS, BISHOP OP 

the entire satisfaction of all that these imputations -were 
utterly false, and pure inventions of the enemies of 
truth. From this epoch the authority and influence of 
their ministers were annihilated in Chablais and all the 
surrounding country. The people flocked in crowds to 
listen to his discourses, and by thousands abjured pub- 
licly the errors of Calvin, and were received into the 
pale of the Catholic church, and then in their turn be- 
came zealous and eloquent advocates of the truth. These 
wonderful conversions were not confined to the peas- 
antry and to the ignorant classes. Men of every rank, 
station, and occupation came to him for counsel and in- 
struction, and ever after regarded him as their spiritual 
father. Ministers, lawyers, nobles, and merchants were 
among his converts. He visited the celebrated Beza, 
and made so strong an impression upon that learned 
follower and successor of John Calvin, that even Beza, 
like another Felix, trembled, and, like Felix, re- 
sponded, " I will hear you again of this matter." He 
did again hear from St. Francis, and at the close of his 
last interview acknowledged the full force of the argu- 
ments of the holy priest, but, alas ! with downcast eyes, 
and in mournful accents, declared his inability to tear 
asunder the ties which bound him to the heresy of Cal- 
vin. Then, when the cup of his apostasy was filled, 
and he was on a dying bed, and called out for Francis 
to visit him, his attendants — we cannot call them 
friends — watched him so carefully, night and day, that 
this last consolation was denied him ; and he died in his 
apostasy, though it is believed with an act of contrition 
on his lips. 

The truly apostolic life of the illustrious missionary 
of Chablais rendered him most worthy, in the eyes of all 



GENEVA . 249 

but his own, of the episcopal office. Accordingly, de- 
spite all his prayers, entreaties, remonstrances, and argu- 
ments, he was compelled, by a positive command of the 
Holy See, to accept the office of coadjutor to the bishop, 
and subsequently succeeded to the See of Geneva. In 
the exercise of the prelature, he fulfilled the promise of 
his previous life. Nay, if possible, he did more. He 
carefully avoided the shoals on which others have en- 
countered shipwreck. There was nothing of show or 
ostentation in his public career. His dress was becom- 
ing a bishop, but plain and scrupulously modest. Plis 
house was clean and neatly furnished, but he banished 
all luxury and needless expense. His attendants were 
few, limited to those who were absolutely necessary, and 
they were obliged to be irreproachable in their chai-acter, 
modest in their demeanor, and kind and respectful to 
all. His table was frugally but abundantly spread, and 
all were welcome to partake of his fare. His charity 
was unbounded. No mendicant was ever sent from his 
door without an alms ; nor did he wait for them to call, 
but diligently sought out the indigent in their houses, and 
offered them the use of his well-filled purse. His daily 
routine was one of constant and arduous labor — of medi- 
tation, prayer, and holy conversation — of mortification 
and self-denial — of severe corporal macerations — and 
of frequent journeyings on foot through the poorest, 
coldest, and wildest regions of Southern Europe, 

It was St. Francis who founded the order of the Nuns 
of the Visitation, and appointed Madame de Chantal the 
first mother superior ; who, by her extraordinary piety, 
prudent management, dignity of character, and innumer- 
able virtues, proved herself fall worthy the choice of 
Buch a man. Under their wise administration, the new 



250 EETUEN TO LONDON. ; 

order increased with such rapidity that before the death 
of Madame de Chantal it numbered eighty-seven convents 
in France and Savoy, and in 1789 there were no less 
than one hundred and fifty convents, containing nearly 
seven thousand nuns. 

St. Francis died in the midst of his labors, at the age of 
fifty-six, on the feast of the Holy Innocents, as innocent 
and pure as they, in the year IQ22 ; and he was canonized 
four years after. He wrought many extraordinary mira- 
cles during his life. But the most wonderful and glo- 
rious of all was the conversion to the Catholic faith of 
seventy-two thousand Protestants. • 

We left Geneva for Paris by diligence, nor did we 
heave one sigh of regret at leaving that apostate city. 
"We travelled by diligence ; yet from Chalons to Paris 
the motive power was steam. In fact, at Chalons we 
were lifted from the wheels of our coach, body and bones, 
swung off into the air, and then most unceremoniously 
deposited on the platform of a car ; and when we arrived 
at Paris we were again set on wheels. This is, I be- 
lieve, an invention purely French. I have witnessed it 
nowhere else. 



CHAPTElt XI. 

ENGLAND AGAIN. 

On the 15th of July, 1854, we returned to London. 
We visited the famous Tower, passed through the tun- 
nel under the Thames, and spent an hour or two in 
Smithfield Market, on a market day. We also visited 
the British Museum and the House of Lords, and took 



ENGLAND. 251 

a drive tlirough the poorest and most wretched parts of 
London. 

At the time of our previous visit, six months since, 
the most exciting topic of pohtical interest was the 
Convent Visitation Bill, then before Parliament. We 
were in the House of Commons while its passage was 
discussed. It struck us at that time as a remarkable 
fact that, with one or two exceptions, every speaker was 
opposed to the bill. Even Lord John Russell made one 
of his best speeches against it. Yet when it came to 
the vote it passed by an immense majority. The friends 
of the bill knew their own strength, and understood 
each other so well as to know that no arguments, how- 
ever convincing — no considerations, however momen- 
tous — no sense of justice and right, however glaring — 
would detach a single vote from the sum total they had 
counted upon. Had it been a bill on any other sub- 
ject than opposition to, and persecution of. Catholics, 
whole weeks might have proved insufficient to have dis- 
cussed its merits. Honorable gentlemen would have 
found themselves extremely conscientious. Burning 
with patriotism, they would have boldly vindicated the 
liberties of the country, and jealously guarded the rights 
and privileges accorded by the British constitution to 
every class of British men. 

But here was a bill for empowering inquisitive com- 
mittees of the Commons to invade the sanctity of the 
cloister, and to burst into the dwellings of defenceless 
females — not because they were cloisters — not because 
they were females living in community — but precisely 
and solely because these females were Catholic ladies, 
and these cloisters were for Catholic recluses. Such 
being the bill, every man in the house knew it would 



252 CONVENT BILL. 

pass ; and its opposers denounced it, and clearly showed 
its folly, injustice, treachery, and wickedness, not be- 
cause they even hoped to defeat it^ but because they 
wished to record their indignant protest for the edifi- 
cation of future and wiser generations. 

However, the strangest part of the story remains to 
be told. Suddenly, while in the full tide of its final 
passage, the whole kingdom preparing to illuminate, and 
shout its approbation — suddenly, as though struck by 
a thunderbolt — it dropped down dead. The bill was 
withdrawn by its own friends and framers, and the 
house sat aghast, utterly unable ' to understand the 
cause. However, the whole mystery was explained to 
us by '' one who knew." ^ 

To understand the matter, it should be borne in mind 
that in England there are, at the present day, a large 
number of monastic and conventual establishments, peo- 
pled by intelligent and well educated persons from every 
rank and order in the empire, as well as from the most 
distinguished families on the continent. Scions of royal 
families are found among them, and heads that in the 
world might have worn diadems and coronets. It was 
the intention of Parliament to have summoned the su- 
periors, and perhaps other members of these religious 
houses, before its tribunal, and there submit them to 
lengthened and complicated interrogations. This they 
knew well, and prepared for it. Their plan of action 
was bold and clearly marked out, and they made no 
secret of it. Eirst, they were to pay no attention to 
the summons. Then, when compelled by the nii^i- 
isters of the law, they had resolved to go to the House 
of Commons in their several religious habits, each 
lady attended by a retinue of her fiiends and rel- 



ENGLAND. 253 

atlveSj as protectors, many of them being of the no- 
bility and gentry. Foreign ladies would have sent 
abroad for members of their families, and distinguished 
relations, or else would have been attended by the am- 
bassadors of their several countries. Scarcely was this 
made known to the framei-s of the bill, when their em- 
barrassment and alarm were heightened and capped by a 
letter missive from Louis Napoleon, the " august ally " 
of England, couched in terms of indignation and warn- 
ing, and containing some good advice about minding 
one's own business, and letting defenceless nuns alone, 
and reminding ministers that his nearest relative was 
a nun in a French convent. This was enough for poor, 
bedridden, doting England, who displayed not even the 
valor of a Massachusetts legislature. The bill was with- 
drawn, and the convents are unmolested to this day. 

John Bull is in a sad case. He hates Catholics as 
cordially as ever, but he knows not how to destroy them. 
He cut and slashed at the men, by enacting cruel and 
barbarous laws ; still they prospered and increased, like 
the Israelites in Goshen, He then, in his rage, attacked 
desperately the women ; but the women found gentlemen 
ready to protect them. And now he revenges himself, 
and reasserts his dignity and importance, by an onslaught 
on the little children. It is now the grand policy of 
England to pervert young Catholics, and, if possible, to 
Protestantize them. This is the talk in Parliament ; this 
is the great theme of Exeter Hall haranguers ; this is 
the burden of the counsels of the religious press ; to ^ 
seize on the children, to shake all faith out of them, and 
put in its place — nothing. 

We visited various cities in England ; among others, 
Exeter, Oxford, Bath, Manchester, and Birmingham. ' 



m 



254 OXFORD UNIVEESITY. 

We travelled mostly by railroad, and therefore could not 
form a very accurate notion of the face of the country, 
nor of the habits and social condition of the people. 

^ We may, however, venture the assertion that there is no 
country in the world where agriculture and gardening, 
manufactures and merchandise, are brought to greater 
perfection ; no country in the world where the higher 
and middle classes are more rich and comfortable, and 
the lower orders more ignorant and depraved ; no coun- 
try in the world that has so many churches and so 
empty, so many religions and so little religion, so much 
money raised and expended for the propagation of reli- 
gion, and so exceeding small the results. 

One word, however, of Oxford. No Catholic but 
must regard old Oxford with interest ; so much learn- 
ing, and religion, and heroic virtue have gone forth 
from those academic shades, to lighten, edify, and im- 
prove the world ; so many good deeds have shone, unob- 
trusive and unknown, within those once hallowed walls ; 
so loud and clear a rallying note of return to the " old 
paths " is now heard daily issuing from those classic halls, 
and echoing among the hills and vales of England. As I 
rambled through the town, I was struck with its venera- 
ble and antiquated appearance, even in those portions 
not occupied by the colleges. The colleges are much as 
I had imagined them — a noble pile of fine old halls, 
telling of the good old paths in their very looks — the 
good old paths, in which Old England loved to roam 
when she was "merry England," and before she changed 

^ her sex and name and became John Bull. It was with 
feelings of sadness and pity that I looked upon them, 
and upon the fine young men in square caps and silk 
gowns, when I thought how the former had been per- 



lEELAND. 255 

verted from the objects intended by those who had 
erected and endowed them ; and how the latter had been 
cheated out of the religion of their fathers — a religion 
so full of consolations and spiritual treasures. Alas ! 
how deep and dreadful must have been the faults that 
called for so terrible a chastisement ! 



CHAPTER XII. 

IRELAND. 

On the evening of the 24th day of July, we took 
passage at Liverpool, in the steamer " Iron Duke," 
for Dublin, where we arrived on the morning of the 
25th. It was a lovely morning : the sun was shin- 
ing brightly, illuming with pencil of fire the turrets, 
cottages, and princely mansions on either shore, and gild- 
ing with its mysterious tints the hill of Howth on one 
side, and the mountains of Wicklow on the other. There 
is not perhaps a bay in the world, if we except that of 
Naples, that is so beautiful, and altogether lovely, as the 
Bay of Dublin. It is, moreover, vast, commodious, and 
perfectly safe. Frigates and merchantmen of the largest 
size, and yachts beautiful and buoyant as swans, may 
ride securely on the bosom of its waters. 

As I stood on the deck of the Iron Duke, inhaling 
the fragrant land breeze that rippled the glassy surface 
of the bay, thoughts kept crowding and crowding upon 
me — thoughts which I could not banish if I would, and 
would not if I could. Not so much the surpassing 
beauties of Dublin Bay ; not the lordly hill of 
Howth, and the glens and mountains of Wicklow, and 



256 CITY OF DUBLIN. 

the distant hills and verdant vales of Meathj not the 
islands, and bluffs, and friendly lighthouses along the 
coast ; not the villas and gardens, that grew every instant 
more distinct and beautiful as we bowled along ; not the 
sandy beach, hard and clean as tidy housewife's floor^ 
nor steep banks and stately promontories ; not these, 1 
say, so much engrossed my mind, as the single, solitary 
fact, that I was now, at last, in good, glorious old Ire- 
land. Ireland, all hail ! Thou art to me no stranger. 
Full well I know thee. I have known and honored 
thee from my earliest childhood. Well do I remember 
the delight with which I read, and the ardor with which 
I learned, the speeches of thy orators, statesmen, and 
patriots — of Burke, and Grattan, and Curran, and 
Sheridan, and Emmet, and Hussell, and Phillips ; and 
how afterwards, a student in a Protestant college, I 
gloated over the works of Dean Swift, and Sterne, and 
Tom Moore ; and sympathized with thy bravest sons, in. 
their repeated struggles for freedom ; and admired the 
exploits of thy warriors and men-at-arms — thy Brian 
Boroimhes, and Malachis, and O'Briens, and O'Neills, 
and Sarsfields, and McCarthys, and Pitzgeralds, and 
O'Keillys. Never can I forget the little Irish boy, my 
f own pupil, who, in exchange for the letters I taught 
him, first taught me Christianity ; nor the Irish servant 
in my paternal mansion, who first made me acquainted 
with a Catholic priest — the Rev. Mr. Taylor, whose 
memory is venerated in' Boston ; nor the Irishman in my 
father's employ, who lent me Catholic books, and a Cath- 
olic paper, printed in Hartford, and in whose house I 
made the acquaintance of the late William Wiley, who 
f afterwards became my spiritual counsellor and father, 
and received me into the bosom of the Catholic church. 



DUBLIN. 257 

saying to me, as the Son of God said to the paralytic, 
" My child, be of good cheer ; thy^ sins are forgiven 
thee." Solomon says, " One may be rich, though he 
have nothing." This is true of thee, land of Erin. 
Outwardly thou art in rags, poverty-stricken, famine- g 
stricken, and bleeding under blows inflicted by legal 
persecutors and unfeeling butchers ; but within all bright 
and glorious, true as the needle to the pole, faithful even 
unto death, awaiting the crown of life. Truly thou art 
a land of saints ; for I do believe that no nation on the 
earth hath sent, and doth yearly send, so many saints tOt* 
heaven. Thou art a vast seminary for the education 
of bishops, priests, and apostolic men, who go forth into 
all the world and proclaim the gospel to every creature. 
Thou art a golden, immortal flower, blooming amid ^ 
thorns, and sending forth thy winged seeds, on every 
breeze, to gladden other nations, and to plant the faith 
in other lands. 

But here we are at the quay, and in the heart of the 
city of Dublin. Other thoughts must now occupy us. 
Having selected our baggage, we proceeded to the Im- 
perial Hotel, where we were provided with every thing we 
could desire. Immediately after breakfast, we engaged 
a "jaunting car," and took a general view of the city. 
Sackville Street is one of the finest streets in all Europe. 
The famous and much vaunted Canibiere, of Marseilles, 
is nothing in comparison. It is no more at best than an 
end of Sackville Street cut off. On either side are splen- 
did stores, five stories in height. The best view of the 
street is had from CarHsle Bridge, which spans the 
Liffey. Nelson's Column, surmounted by a statue of 
the great naval hero, towers conspicuous in the middle 
of the street, towards the north ; facing the column is 



258 INSTITUTIONS AND CHARITIES. 

the Post Office, and a little beyond is the Eotunda 
Turn your back to the column, and you have a fine 
view of the Bank of Ireland and the university; on 
your right are the Four Courts, and on your left the 
Custom House, which latter is a noble building. 

We called at the House of the Jesuits, in Upper 
Gardiner Street, where I had the pleasure of meeting the 
venerable and learned Father Esmonde, brother to Sir 
Thomas Esmonde, M. P, During the years 1841—2, 
when a stranger and alone, a pilgrim in Pome, I first 
made his acquaintance. I had but recently abjured 
Protestantism, and nearly all my Protestant friends had 
abjured me ; but instead, I had found not only the true 
faith, which was more than enough to compensate for all, 
but I found in Father Esmonde a counsellor, friend, 
benefactor, and father. He was a true Jesuit. In the 
same House I became acquainted with Father John 
Lynch, a true Christian and a perfect gentleman. He 
kindly accompanied me in my excursions about Dub- 
lin. We visited the ragged schools, where the children 
of the poorest classes are gratuitously instructed; also 
those of the Brothers of the Christian Schools. One of 
them numbered five hundred pupils. They were in- 
structed in every branch of a common, useful educa- 
tion, even to drawing, designing, and architecture. We 
were much pleased with the cleanliness of the rooms, 
the excellence of the discipline, and the cheerful, intel- 
ligent countenances of the boys. 

The Irish Academy is intended to promote the study 
of science, polite literature, and antiquities. We visited 
the museum attached to the institution, which contains a 
fine collection of Irish antiquities, among which were 
harps, implements of war, crosiers, rare and valuable 



DUBLIN. 259 

manuscripts, &c., &c. The Museum of Irish Industry 
contains specimens of the richest marbles, rare minerals, 
precious ores, and manufactures and fabrics, which prove, 
beyond the possibility of doubt, that Ireland is not be- 
hind any nation in industry, skill, and internal resources. 
If she stands not among the first, it is not her faixlt. 

In Dublin — and the same we afterwards found true 
of every city that we visited in Ireland — there exist 
public institutions and charities as numerous as the 
diseases and infirmities to which the human frame is lia- 
ble. There are hospitals for the diseased ; refuges for 
the penitent ; retreats for the aged ; asylums for the 
blind, deaf and dumb, and the insane ; and infirmaries 
for the sick and the maimed, and for women with child. 
Nearly all of them are supported by the spontaneous 
and voluntary oiferings of the people. If there is one 
trait in the Irish character that stands forth more promi- 
nent than all others, and that hides or eliminates all their 
faults, it is their pity for one another's woes. The most 
crushed and dejected spirit revives at the sight of sorrow, 
for it hopes to relieve it. The most emaciated, famine- 
stricken family will cheerfully share their crust with the 
hungry wayfarer, and none will grudge '' a bit and a 
sup " to the stranger who asks for it. When the ejected 
tenant, smitten with a contagious fever, lies down by the. 
hedge to die, the nearest peasant will take him to his 
hovel, and bestow on him all the care and attention that 
his penury will permit. Even the insane and idiots are 
treated with respect, and no one mocks or derides them. 
" The fact is," says the celebrated Dr. Milner, " the 
charity and hospitality of the Irish supersede the ne- 
cessity of poor laws. Every cottage is open to each poor 
persou who chooses to enter it. There the stranger fares 



260 CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS. 

as the family fare^ is kindly, sheltered from the weather, 
and reposes upon as good a couch as they themselves." 

I visited several of the charitable institutions of Dub- 
lin. St. Vincent's Hospital^ on Stephen's Green, for the 
sick of both sexes, is a large and commodious establish- 
ment, served by Sisters of Charity. It was founded in 
1835, by Archbishop Murray. It contains a hundred 
beds. The same day, I visited an institution for the 
deaf and dumb. It is admirably governed. The num- 
ber of pupils was about one hundred, all boys, and very 
intelligent-looking lads. They appear well instructed 
in reading, writing, ciphering, geography, &c. They are 
taught and disciplined by a lay person, who has two as- 
sistants. No female is employed about the premises. 
The pupils do their own cooking, chamber work, scrub- 
bing, &c., &c., all except the laundry work, which is 
sent out. I cannot give a description of the charitable 
institutions of Dublin, because I could not obtain any 
printed documents giving a history of their doings. In 
fact, the patrons of these establishments do not seek for 
notoriety, but only to do good. Moreover, their funds 
are limited, and they cannot afford to spend money in 
publishing their good works. 

We had ridden about Dublin and its environs ; we 
had admired the princely villas and tasteful gardens 
which decorate the banks of the Liffey ; we had made 
the tour of the circular road that surrounds the city ; we 
had visited the Custom House, the Four Courts, and 
Phoenix Park, which last is one of the finest public 
promenades in Europe, containing one thousand acres, 
beautifully laid out ; we looked with joy and pride upon 
the public buildings, bridges, monuments, and wide, com- 
modious streets ; we visited the splendid new cemetery. 



DUBLIN. 261 

and knelt over the grave of the great Daniel O'Connell, 
and offered up a Hail Mary for the peaceful repose of his 
soul ; but, alas ! in the midst of all so rich and beauti- 
ful, a solemn^ sad loneliness hung, like a black pall, 
about every thing. The streets, though wide, were de- 
serted ; the stores, though lofty and built for long en- 
durance, were closed ; business there was almost none. 
Dublin was like a deserted village, or a city of the 
dead. Once it had been rife with a noble-hearted, 
enterprising, and busy population ; now, as in Pompeii, 
the lofty buildings, which walled its beautiful streets, 
echoed to the footfall of the traveller. Such is the 
policy, and such the aim, of the imperial Parliament — to 
crush and ruin Ireland ; to ruin her commerce ; to crush 
her spirit of enterprise ; to stop her progress ; to forbid 
the education of her sons in all that is worth knowing, 
and then taunt them with ignorance, and to force upon 
them an education not worth the having. No man ever 
saw more clearly, and penetrated more deeply, into this 
cruel and barbarian policy, than did the great and good 
Daniel O'Connell. He understood it well ; he felt it, 
keenly as a knife cutting his own heartstrings, because 
cutting the heartstrings of his country. In his youth 
and manhood, he bore it with courage and constancy. 
The best friend of the Irish people, their irresistible ad- 
vocate, and the idol of their affections, he hoped to be- 
come their liberator. He looked and labored for the 
dissolution of that union which he regarded, not without 
reason, as the cause of his country's woes ; and he re- 
garded as already dawning the glorious day that should 
behold Ireland taking rank among the most intelligent 
and civilized nations of the earth. He grew old, but 
the light increased not ; even the glimpse of dawn that 



262 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 

had hitherto cheered hira disappeared, and he saw 
nothing in the eastern horizon but clouds, and darkness, 
and threatening tempests. Keluctantly and painfully 
he yielded to the conviction that English gold and 
English obstinacy were more powerful and successful 
than Irish energy, eloc[uence, patriotism, and right ; and 
then — he died. 

I shall never forget an interview I had with Mr. 
O'Connell, on the occasion of a previous visit to Dub- 
lin. It was in the year 1844, on the 12th of July. 
Strange to say, the liberator of Ireland, the peaceful agi- 
tator, the incorruptible patriot, the law-abiding O'Con- 
nell, was then in jail, a prisoner. I rode to the Rich- 
mond Penitentiary on purpose to see him, and pay him 
my respect and honiage. Arrived at the gate, I called 
for the governor, and craved the privilege of an inter- 
view with O'Connell. At first I was refused, on the 
groimd that it was not his day for the reception of visit- 
ors. No way discouraged, I pleaded that I had come a 
long way, even from America, to see O'Connell, and re- 
quested him at least to send my card, which he politely 
consented to do. The messenger immediately returned, 
saying that Mr. O'Connell would be pleased to see me. 
The governor hesitated no longer, but, having conducted 
me through the building, showed me into a garden, and 
left me there, saying that I should find Mr. O'Connell , 
in some of the walks of the garden. I walked through 
several alleys, and met several persons whom I eyed 
sharply, but felt sure that neither of them was the great 
man I sought. I afterwards learned that they were the 
other traversers. At length two men approached, walk- 
ing very slowly. One of them was tall, full in the body, 
and of noble mien. I knew at once that this was Daniel 



DUBLIN, 263 

O'Connell. I approached him with diffidence and awe, 
mnch as a boy does his master ; but he placed me in- 
stantly at my ease. Drawing my card from his pocket, 
he called me by name, as if I were an old acquaintance, 
and immediately, with great vivacity, began to question 
me about America and the Americans ; then about Rome 
and other places I had visited. At length he spoke 
of himself, in reply to some question of mine. A shade 
of sadness instantly passed over his handsome, intelli- 
gent, and most expressive features. He had been im- 
prisoned since the oOth of May. It is true, he had 
had every thing to console him in his captivity — the 
affectionate attentions of devoted sons and daughters ; 
the sympathies of innumerable friends, of every creed 
and of every rank ; the devotion of millions of his coun- 
trymen, evidenced so eloquently by their tranquillity, 
and compliance with his every wish ; but still he was 
in prison — in a jail — for treason and conspiracy. It is 
true, to use his own words, addressed to the judges 
when they pronounced his sentence, justice had not been 
done to him ; and in the language of Lord Denman, un- 
der such an empanelment as was permitted on the occa- 
sion of his trial, the trial by jury, commonly styled the 
bulwark of English freedom, might be regarded as " a 

MOCKERY, A DELUSION, AND A SNARE ; " Still he WaS a 

prisoner — a convict — and he felt it. I tried to say a few 
words of encouragement, and to express my hopes that 
the efforts then making in Parliament would be success- 
ful, and that he would soon be free. " No, sir," replied 
he ; " you do not know the English Parliament. They 
are determined to crush Ireland ; therefore they will 
crush repeal ; they must then crush me. I have studied 
all their debates, I know well all their designs, and I 



264 O'CONNELL IN PKISON. 

have made up my mind to serve out the term of my 
sentence in this jail." Mr. O'Connell, as it afterwards 
appeared, was perfectly right in his appreciation of the 
designs and sense of justice of an English Parliament ; 
but he did not know then that the subject was to be 
referred to the twelve judges of England, and that among 
these — strange to say — were just and upright judges. 
In less than two months from the time of this interview, 
the writ of appeal was allowed ; all the proceedings against 
O'Connell and his friends were declared null and void, 
and they were liberated from prison. 

Daniel O'Connell was a man whom posterity will de- 
light to honor ; he was a true and disinterested patriot ; 
he was bold and unflinching in exposing and resisting 
his country's wrongs ; as a politician, he was governed 
and actuated by the purest principles ; above all, he was 
a practical and fervent Catholic. If our young men 
would only take him as their model, and strive to imi- 
tate his virtues, they might, with safety and honor, pur- 
sue any calling, engage in any profession or occupation, 
and their career could not be other than successful and 
glorious; fame would precede them, honors would fall 
upon them, riches would reward them, heaven would 
crown them ; theirs would be the path of true and 
unfading glory, onward and upward forever ; no threats 
could terrify them, no insults disturb them, no suffer- 
ings subdue them, no examples seduce them ; strong in 
the panoply of truth, they could walk unscathed through 
the fiery furnace of vice, immorality, and irreligion, 
and bid defiance to the skill and cunning of their fiercest 
enemies. 



CORK. 265 



CORK. 

From Dublin we travelled to Cork by railroad. The 
journey is not by any means so agreeable as one I for- 
merly made by the mail coach and Bianchoni's cars. In 
that journey I passed through a country diversified with 
hills and valleys, of surpassing beauty ; through parks, 
and fields of wheat, and every kind of luxuriant vege- 
tation, rivalling the most attractive plains of Italy and 
Switzerland. Palaces and mansions, denoting wealth '§, 
and social comfort, appeared on every side ; packs of 
hounds, the winding horns of hunters, and herds of 
deer, agreeably diversified the scene and added to its 
interest. The cabins of the peasantry lined the roads, 
revealing a population of vast extent, each cabin swarm- 
ing with beautiful and rugged children. Fifty years . ^ 
ago, the celebrated Dr. Milner, speaking of the Catholic 
population of Ireland, after two centuries and a half of 
depression, poverty, and persecution, wrote as follows : 
" The history of the human race furnishes but one 
parallel to it — the increase of the Israelites in Egypt ; 
and this, notwithstanding the vast and incessant drains 
upon the young men to supply the army and navy, and 
the constant and prodigious efflux of the poor from 
their own country." In this journey by railroad, on the 
contrary, we passed through a country of bogs and pas- 
tures, without inhabitants. Now and then we saw the 
remains of a burned or decayed cottage, or hamlet ; and r 
when, at times, we passed through a fine and florid 
country, we exclaimed, '' Beautiful ! but where are the 
inhabitants ? " Alas ! vast changes have taken place iu 
Ireland within ten years. Villages are depopulated — • 
23 



266 FACE OF THE COUNTRY. 

whole counties are comparatively deserted. Fever, 
famine and persecution, enlistments and emigration, have 
created a terrible void in the population. 

We found excellent lodgings and sumptuous fare at 
the Imperial Hotel, one of the most comfortable public 
houses in the United Kingdom. We engaged a carriage, 
and rode about the city and its environs. Cork holds 
-rank as the second city in Ireland, in extent, population, 
and commercial importance. ' It is delightfully situated 
on the banks of the River Lee, which flows through its 
heart. The Lee is a river of singular beauty ; it winds 
gracefully among verdant hills, and through the most 
luxurious plains that mortal eye hath ever seen ; and the 
wild and the cultivated are so happily mingled, that it 
would seem as if the hand of taste had been every 
where employed skilfully to improve nature. The hills 
are clad from the summit to the water's edge with every 
variety of foliage ; graceful villas and ornamental cot- 
tages are scattered among them in profusion, and here 
and there some ancient ruin recalls a story of the past.* 
The principal streets in Cork are wide, straight, and 
neatly paved ; in the suburbs and outskirts, they are 
narrow and dirty. From the number of carts, carriages, 
and loaded wagons, and the noise and bustle along the 
quays, I should suppose that business was very active, 
and the inhabitants industrious and prosperous. Even 
in the poorer quarters, I did not find so much -poverty 
and wretchedness as I had expected. Beggars were few 
in number, and by no means importunate or annoying. 
There were people in rags, but they looked cheerful 
and healthy. 

• Ireland, by Mr. and Mrs, S. C. Hall. 



CORK. 267 

The first person on wliom we called, after our ai 
rival in Cork, was the celebrated Father Mathew. The 
first time I ever saw the great apostle of temperance 
v/as in the summer of 1844. He was then in full vigor 
and strength ; he was at the zenith of his success as 
the greatest moral reformer of his age. He was cer- 
tainly a remarkable man. He was zealous in his cause, 
but without being a fanatic ; he was sanguine without 
being an enthusiast ; he was a teetotaler, but he neither 
condemned nor despised those who used intoxicating 
drinks. Total abstinence he regarded as an almost ne- 
cessary means of promoting the peace, happiness, and 
thrift of families ; as a powerful agent in establishing 
good order in a community, and as a promoter of health 
and a long life ; but he did not brand with sin the mere 
act of drinking spirits. He stood forth as the cham- 
pion of a great moral reform, but not to glorify him- 
self, or to acquire a name, or to create a sensation 
in the world ; but solely to promote the temporal and 
spiritual comfort of his down-trodden, persecuted coun- 
trymen. Unlooked-for success crowned his efibrts ; God 
blessed his labors ; millions had been enrolled under the 
banner which he had unfurled ; his name was known 
and held in veneration in every portion of the Christian 
world ; and yet there he was in his humble residence 
in Cork, meek, affable, simple, and unaffected as a child. 

The next time I saw Father Mathew, it was in Boston. 
I had the honor of receiving him in my own house, and 
of entertaining him as my guest. His visit to the United 
States will long be remembered by Americans. He vis- 
ited nearly every state and large city in the Union, and 
was every where received as the country's guest. His 
progress was a triumph of true philanthropy over na- 



268 PATHES MATHEW. 

tional prejudice and religious bigotry. The humble 
Capuchin friar, untitled and poor, became a hero, on 
whom were showered all the honors that public func- 
tionaries and private individuals could lavish, and yet 
remained the humble Capuchin still. And through all 
he never compromised his character and dignity as a 
Catholic and a priest. He boldly proclaimed the utter 
uselessness of all pledges to salvation, unless sanctified 
by Catholic faith. He stood forth the bold and un- 
flinching advocate of the principles of Catholics. 

On the occasion of the present visit he was a much 
changed man. His intellect was still unclouded ; his 
zeal was undiminished ; his recollection of persons and 
places in America was perfect ; he asked with great in- 
terest about the friends he had made in Boston and 
the vicinity ; but alas ! his bodily health was gone ; his 
iron constitution was completely shattered ; he spoke 
slowly and with difficulty, and was confined almost con- 
stantly to his apartment. His days are nearly numbered, 
and ere long he will receive the reward for which he 
has so "long and so gloriously toiled. 

I never felt so much at home, when away from home, 
as when I was in the city of Cork. In walking the streets 
I seemed to meet none of the inhabitants of a foreign 
land. The manners, habits, occupations, and even the 
language and very accent of the people, were precisely the 
same as those of my own congregation in Boston. I went 
to their churches — their faith was the same ; their devo- 
tion was as fervent, as sincere, and as edifying. If I 
desired to make a call, there was, besides Father Ma- 
thew, an old and much valued friend of mine, the Rev. 
John J. Murphy, pastor of SS. Peter and Paul. I had 
been very intimate with him during a year that I passed 



MILLTOWN. 269 

in Rome. We had pursued our studies together, and 
he was to me more than a friend — he was a brother. 
When I was without money, my remittances having 
failed to reach me in consequence of some oversight of 
my banker, he placed his purse at my disposal. He 
had been a merchant, and was at that time, late in life, 
preparing for the priesthood. There was also an old 
correspondent of mine, a poor man, but a true Irishman, 
Mr. John Crowley, living in Nev/ Lane, Old Market 
Place ; he was overjoyed to see me, and offered me the 
hospitality of his house. 

My stay in Cork was by far too brief. With a sigh 
of deep regret, I parted from my faithful, warm-hearted 
friends, to see them perhaps no more, and proceeded 
swiftly by railroad towards Killarney. All the way the 
scenery was most beautiful ; but who can attempt to 
describe scenery seen from a railway carriage ? You 
might as well try to count the spokes in a swiftly re- 
volving wheel. Immediately on our arrival at Killarney, 
we engaged a jaunting car to take us to Milltown. It 
was Saturday afternoon, and we wished to pasg the Sun- 
day with my old and venerable friend, the Rev. Bar- 
tholomew O'Connor, P. P., familiai'ly known among his 
devoted parishioners as " Father Bat." It was a lovely 
day, and the road over which we rolled was more like 
the avenue to the mansion of a prince than like a public 
highway. On our right we passed the venerable ruins 
of Aghadoe, consisting of the walls of a cathedral, of 
which the main doorway is in a good state of preserva- 
tion ; the remains of a round tower, some twelve or 
fourteen feet high ; and the base of a castle, called by 
the inhabitants the Bishop's Chair, or See, perhaps be- 
cause it was the place of his residence. On our left 
S3* 



270 - KILLARNEY. 

reposed the Lower Lake, in all its sublimity ; beyond were 
the purple mountains, covered with the arbutus, of most 
luxuriant and sturdy growth, interspersed with the elm, 
the ash, the holly, and the yew, presenting to the eye 
a richness, and variety, and peculiar tint of foliage, such 
as I had never seen in any other country. 

Our car driver was a jovial lad, full of talk, and en- 
tertained us with many marvellous stories ; and, alto- 
gether, we had a most agreeable ride. In an hour and 
a half we were at the door of Father Bat, who gave us 
a true and hearty Irish welcome — cead mille failihe. 
Soon after our arrival, we heard in the distance a wild 
and piercing strain of music. We started, for there was 
in it something strange and unearthly. It swelled and 
died away, as if borne upon a fitful breeze. Presently 
appeared a funeral procession ; and the Jceeners were 
keening over the departed, thus verifying the Scrip- 
ture, " Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners 
go about the streets." 

On Sunday, the church, which was perfectly neat and 
clean, but without either floor or pews, was crowded 
with devout worshippers ; so also was the chapel of 
the neighboring convent. It was a glorious sight to see 
them issuing in dense masses from the church, many of 
them very poor, and in rags — refusing to change tjjeir 
rags and penury for purple, and fine linen, and sump- 
tuous fare, that they may win and possess Christ their 
Saviour, and enjoy him forever. The Protestant church, 
on the contrary, was almost empty, if I could judge 
aught from the " few and far between " that came forth, 
elegantly clad, after their service. Yet this same Prot- 
estant church hath shown to the impoverished and tat- 
tered Catholics all the treasures and good things of the 



GAP OF DUNLOE. 271 

earth, and said, " All these things will I give thee if 
thou wilt fall down and worship me ; " and the only 
reply they have received from these impoverished and 
tattered Catholics has been, " Get thee behind me, Satan ; 
for thou savorest not of the things that be of God, but 
of the things that be of men." And they are none the 
worse, for angels come and minister to them. The good 
nuns, with a charity and zeal heaven-born, console them 
in their sufferings and alleviate their wants, and the good 
priest is to them father, friend, and benefactor. 

Much pleased with our visit to Father Bat, and edi- 
fied by his devoted attention both to the temporal and 
spiritual necessities of his flock, we returned to Killar- 
ney on Monday, and made our arrangements for visiting 
the lakes. We engaged a guide, and bugler, and boat- 
men ; the first to accompany us, and the others to await 
us at the Upper Lake. We next took a jaunting car and 
started for the Gap of Dunloe, crossing the Laune, and 
passing through the beautiful country of the MacCarthy 
More, the representative of the ancient kings of M'un- 
ster, and for centuries the most powerful prince of 
Desmond. 

The Gap of Dunloe is one of the most remarkable 
of the wonders of Killarney. At the entrance to the 
Gap we dismissed our carriage, and went through the 
pass, a distance of four miles, on foot. It would seem 
a long walk for one unused to walking. Yet to us it 
seemed very short. Minutes and hours sped on as they 
do to the sleeper who is enjoying a delicious dream. I 
have never beheld a scene combining so much rare 
beauty with so much wild grandeur. At one time we 
stood on the edge of frightful precipices ; at another we fol- 
lowed the windings of the Kiver Loe, which fl.ows through 



272 KILLAENET. 

the valley of the Gap ; then the path ascended, and we 
toiled lip the rugged niountam slope, then descended 
into dark and dreary pits ; at one time Ave were deafened 
^y the rushing and roaring of the angry river, forcing a 
^ift passage over the rocks, and between the bases of 
t?ie mountains ; at another we looked down with delight 
upon the same waters, expanded into a beautiful lake, 
so still and placid that every tree and leaf upon its banks 
was reflected in its waters. On the tops of huge rocks, 
" whose heads touched heaven," we descried goats, and 
wondered much how they got there, and how they would 
ever get down. On the slopes of barren mountains Avere 
Kerry cows, ruminating cozily. 

Emerging from the Gap, we came suddenly into the 
Coom Dhuv, or Black Valley, a scene of surpassing 
loveUness. Passing through Lord Brandon's demesne, 
we found our boat waiting in one of the quiet little 
creeks of the Upper Lake. Wearied with Avalking and 
excitement, we joyfully threw ourselves into the Avell- 
cushioned boat, and were rapidly borne through the 
Upper Lake. A narrow channel separates the Upper 
from the Middle Lake. It is about four miles in length, 
and contains many objects of interest. The guide regaled 
us with many stories and with legends of O'Donoghue 
of Ross, the Lord of the Lake, and from time to time 
the bugler wound his horn, and a whole family of echoes, 
great and small, responded, one after the other, from the 
opposite hills and mountains. The best, by far, and the 
most distinct and loud of all the echoes, was that of the 
Eagle's Nest. I never heard so fine a one before. We 
remained in the boat, but the bugler landed and sounded 
from the shore. When he put the instrument to his 
lips, the effect was magical. I quote from Mr. S. C 



LAKES. 273 

Hall : — " First lie played a single note — it was caught up 
and repeated, loudly, softly, again loudly, again softly, 
and then as if by a hundred instruments, each a thou- 
sand times more musical than that which gave its rivals 
birth, twirling and twisting around the mountain, run- 
ning up from its foot to its summit, then rolling above 
it, and at length dying away in the distance until it was 
heard as a mere whisper, barely audible, far away. Then 
he blew a few notes ; a multitude of voices, seemingly 
from a multitude of hills, at once sent forth a reply ; 
sometimes pausing for a second, as if waiting for some 
tardy comrade to join in the marvellous chorus, then 
mingling together in a strain of sublime grandeur and 
delicate sweetness, utterly indescribable. Again he sent 
forth his summons to the mountains, and blew, for per- 
haps a minute, a variety of sounds ; the effect was 
indeed that of ' enchanting ravishment,' giving 

• Resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies.* " 

Just before entering the Middle Lake, we landed at 
Glena, a most lovely spot, covered with verdure, where 
we found a commodious inn, for the accommodation of 
visitors. It was here we dined. 

The Lower Lake is much the largest of the three, 
and many regard it as more attractive and beautiful than 
either of the others. It is sprinkled with islands cov- 
ered with rich and varied foliage. But here I must 
relieve the reader ; for not only space would fail me, 
but I should be suspected of exaggeration and extrava- 
gance, and only reveal my own incompetence, were I to 
attempt a description of all the beauties of these mar- 
vellous lakes — the bays, the headlands, the mountains, 
the woods, the cascades, the villas and demesnes that 



274: KILLAENEY. 

adorn their shores, the islands with which they are 
gemmed, of which the most beautiful is " Sweet Innis- 
fallen/' and the largest is Eoss Island. " Here/' says 
Dr. Milner, " Nature has fixed her chosen retreat, where 
she displays all her charms and all her grandeui-." 

On the following day we visited the domain of Lord 
Kenmore, The grounds are of vast extent, and are 
laid out with exquisite taste and skill. There are every 
sort of flower beds whose odors- perfume the air- — there 
are green lawns where deer were grazing — winding 
paths, flowering shrubs, forest trees, and bushes. An 
occasional glimpse of the bosom of the lake was had 
through the alleys and the openings in the trees. We 
then proceeded through a fine country, owned chiefly by 
Lord Kenmore and Mr. Herbert, to the venerable ruins 
of the Abbey of Mucross, supposed to have been built 
during the twelfth century. The site was admirably 
chosen, as only the monks of the middle ages knew how 
to choose. The main entrance is by a Gothic doorway, 
overgrown with ivy, and in a good state of preservation. 
Some of the window frames and groined arches in the 
interior are also well preserved, as are also the dormito- 
ries, refectory, kitchen, &c., of the adjoining convent. 
The cloisters are almost in their original state, and we 
walked along their corridors silently and with care, as 
if afraid to interrupt the monks at their devotions. A 
huge yew tree grows in the centre, probably many cen- 
turies old. One of the most interesting of the ancient 
monuments of the abbey is a huge fireplace in the 
kitchen. It is a model for comfort and utility. A 
whole ox might be roasted before it, and a whole com- 
munity might sit around its cheerful fire of unsawed logs. 



CHRISTIAN BROTHERS. 275 



"WATERFORD. 

The city of Waterford is one of the most ancient and 
renowned of the cities of Ireland. Its harbor is safe, 
commodious, and beautiful, and in these respects rivals 
that of Cork. It is situated on the southern bank of the 
Kiver Suir. Merchant ships of the largest size were 
lying along the magnificent quay, which is a full mile in 
extent, and affords a fine promenade for the inhabitants. 
At its western extremity is a handsome and well-con- 
structed wooden bridge, more than eight hundred feet in 
length and forty in breadth. It was built by a Boston 
architect. 

The city itself has a remarkably clean and cheerful 
aspect, and an appearance of more thrift and active com- 
merce than any city I have visited in Ireland. A ver- 
dant country in a high state of cultivation spreads out 
on every side ; and lofty mountains, presenting bold and 
graceful outlines, add grandeur and romance to the 
scenery. 

The Cathedral Church is a large and very ancient 
edifice, and yet has a very fresh and healthful appear- 
ance. If, as it is said, it has stood already five hundred 
years, it seems destined to remain five hundred years 
longer. 

But that which interested me most in Waterford was 
the far-famed school of the " Christian Brothers," founded 
by Mr. Edmund Eice, in 1803. The school numbered 
six hundred pupils. The discipline is excellent, and the 
system of instruction all that could be desired. The 
boys are taught reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, 
book-keeping, grammar, geometry, mensuration, and 



276 CASTLE. 

drawing. But above all, and more important than all, 
they are taught virtue and religion. They acquire a 
knowledge of religion, and a love for it, which is the 
ground and the guaranty of their future respectability, 
success in life, and eminence in whatever calling they 
may engage. All honor to Edmund Rice. He is one 
of the few gi-eat men of the present century, and his 
name will live, and be handed down to posterity with 
that of Theobald Mathew and Daniel O'Connell. It is 
glory enough for one nation to have produced three such 
men in the same age. 

KILKENNY. 

From Dublin to Kilkenny we rode over one of the 
most verdant and delicious countries in the world. 
Mountains and glens, teerhing fields, shady groves, vast 
pastures, fertile and richly variegated slopes and lawns, 
'and grazing deer, picturesque cottages, castles and tow- 
ers, princely domains, churches and shrines, all passed 
rapidly by us, a grand panorama, moved by steam — alas ! 
too swiftly moved. 

We descended at the well-built and commodious sta- 
tion house at the head of John Street, and immediately 
repaired to Walsh's Hotel. We found it an excellent 
hotel, and well supplied with every comfort. Almost 
the first object we visited was the famous Kilkenny Cas- , 
tie, originally built on the banks of the River Nore, by 
Strongbow, the celebrated Welsh chief, who lived during 
the twelfth century, and soon afterwards destroyed, and 
then rebuilt by the Earl of Pembroke. For four hun- 
dred and fifty years it has been the property of the Earls 
of Ormond. Nothing that I have seen has given me so 
vivid and satisfactory an idea of the old baronial castle. 



KILKENNY. 277 

Its turreted walls overliang the river, and are reflected 
in its clear and glassy waters. It commands all the 
houses and streets of the city, and seems admirably 
adapted either to protect or destroy them. The streets 
are very clean, and are flagged with black marble quar- 
ried in the neighborhood. The chimneys emit no smoke, 
as the Kilkenny coal, which is generally used, is not 
bituminous, like the English coal ; thus proving that the 
ancient poet did not exaggerate when he described Kil- 
kenny as a city of wonders — 

" Fire without smoke, earth without bog, 

Water without mud, air without fog, 

And streets paved with marble." 

Crossing John's bridge we had another superb view of 
Lord Ormond's castle, reposing amidst exuberant foliage, 
and casting its daguerreotype into the waters beneath. 
There is, also, a grand canal, along the margin of which 
the inhabitants find a healthful, agreeable, and fashiona- 
ble promenade. 

There are several fine churches and other public 
buildings in Kilkenny. The new cathedral has been 
thirteen years in process of erection, and is not yet com- 
pleted. It is made of the Kilkenny marble, and when 
finished will be one of the finest cathedrals in Ireland. 
The old Black Abbey, a venerable pile, has a superb 
rose window of stone. The Convent of the Presentation 
was founded by a citizen of Dublin, for the education 
of poor female children. The number of girls is at 
present about six hundred. They are taught all the 
branches of a common school education, and also draw- 
ing, painting, embroidery, and all sorts of needlework. 
The new Lunatic Asylum, with its gardens, covers thir- 
teen acres of land. 



278 CONCLUSION. 

CHAPTEE, XIII. 

CONCLUSION, 

I REGRET that I could not remain longer in Ireland, 
and that I was compelled by imperative duty to forego 
the pleasure of a trip to the north, and a visit to the 
Giant's Causeway, and other objects of the greatest 
interest, which abouitd in that portion of the country. 
But I have seen enough, I think, to enable me to appre- 
ciate more justly than I have ever yet done the true 
character of the Irish people ; to augment my admira- 
tion of their virtues ; and to form some sort of estimate 
of their probable destiny, and of their future influence 
upon the world. 

To a reflecting and unprejudiced tourist in Ireland, 
several considerations must suggest themselves, founded 
on the past history, the present condition, and the futvire 
prospects of that unfortunate and ill-governed country. 

1. Ireland is a comparatively small country, containing 
an area of only about thirty-one thousand square miles, 
not larger than the State of South Carolina. It is an 
island lying in a far-ofi" corner of the earth, and in an 
unfrequented part of the ocean. It has but little com- 
munication with other nations, and consequently has, 
never been corrupted by their vices. The people are 
unacquainted with the usages, manners, and maxims of 
the world at large, and are for the most part as unsophis- 
ticated and free from aflectation as when first converted 
to Christianity. A spontaneous native wit, a natural 
grace and sweetness, an expressive, eloquent, and uncor- 
rupted language, gentle manners and innate politeness. 



ISELAND. . 279 

lend them a charm and a beauty which Are vainly seek 
among any other Christian people. Hence every man 
in Ireland is a true Irishman, and nothing else. He 
loves his country with all the ardor of his ardent tem- 
perament, for he knows no other country. No adventu- 
rers or foreign emigrants come hither to accumulate 
wealth ; no foreign ships land their cargoes on her 
shores. No French infidels are here to inculcate impi- 
ety, blasphemy, and loose morals ; no Italian dema- 
gogues to stir up sedition ,* no " Alexander Smiths " to 
plunder them under the pretence of becoming their 
bankers. The consequence is, the Irish character is in 
its full, original strength — unadulterated. It is pure, 
unmixed. The patriotism of the Irish is strong and 
sincere. Their love of country is unchanged by time 
or long exile. Their attachment to the Catholic faith is 
firm and inflexible. Their virtue is unsurpassed by any 
nation on the earth, and their charity to the poor un- 
bounded. The men are full of vivacity, bravery, and 
wit ; the women models of chastity and constancy — the 
best of wives and the best of mothers. 

2. The internal resources of Ireland are immense. 
Nature has done for her all that nature could do. She 
has covered her with the richest of soils, irrigated by 
copious and gentle showers. In the midst of the At 
lantic Ocean, she is a stranger alike to extreme heat and 
to extreme cold. Her climate is one of the most agree- 
able and salubrious in the world. She is encircled by 
safe and commodious harbors, in which all the ships in 
the world might securely ride at anchor. Lying be- 
tween the old world and the new, she might carry on a 
prosperous trade with both, and become the great entre- 
pot of the civilized world. By means of her rivers and 



280 EMIGRATION. 

mountain streams she could manufacture tlie ■wool, cot- 
ton, and flax, brought to her coasts, and send back her 
calicoes, cloths, and linens. Her mountains and valleys 
are full of peat and coal, iron, lead, copper, sulphur, 
marble, slate, granite, lime, flint, potter's clay, and every 
sort of mineral. She produces wool, leather, fur, cat- 
tle, corn, fruit, butter, fowls, and all useful vegetables, 
in the most lavish abundance. With an overhanging 
atmosphere ever mild, impregnated with a healthy vapor 
from the spray of the stormy ocean, which purifies her 
earth and air, and intercepts the scorching rays of the 
summer's sun, nourishing the fecundity of her soil, 
which the frost of winter never chills into sterility, — 
green and fruitful vegetation ascends to the summits of 
her hills, and rewards the husbandman in highland and 
in valley. She is blessed among the nations, and should 
be happy. With so many resources and advantages, and 
nourishing eight millions of people, she should be inde- 
pendent and free.* 

3. But, alas ! Ireland is neither happy nor independ- 
ent. Dearly as they love their country, their kindred 
and friends, — strongly attached as they are to the soil on 
which their fathers have toiled, and which they them- 
selves have contributed so much to fertilize, — the Irish 
people are leaving it by millions, and are seeking a rest- 
ing-place and a home in other and far distant' and 
strange lands. For in one of the richest of countries 
they experience the woes and degradation of squalid 
poverty. In a land teeming with fruit and vegetables, 
and covered with flocks and herds, they die of actual 
starvation. In a climate the most salubrious that the 

* Mooney's Hist. Ireland. . . 



IRELAND. 281 

sun sliiiies upon, they drop down by the roadside, and 
die of fever. All this has been, and were it not for 
emigration, disease, famine, and war, would be to this 
very day. The Irish are full of noble traits and shining 
virtues, which ought to awake the sympathies, and call 
forth the admiration, and animate the pride of the most 
impassive of step-mothers — yet by their English step- 
mother they have been persecuted, calumniated, and 
abused, with a rancor that has never relented, and with 
a ferocity that has never been known to give quarter. 
The long-continued and uninterrupted sufferings of Ire- 
land have no parallel in the history of nations. Other 
people have been oppressed — have been crushed ; but 
they have either risen in their wrath and spurned the 
tyrant, or else have sunk under the weight, and ceased 
to exist. The Irish, on the contrary, are scarcely known 
in the history of the world, except as an oppressed, down- 
trodden and persecuted race ; yet, shining amid the 
darkness and storms of that same history of this world 
of ours, a bright, solitary star, whose reflection on the 
waters marks to the wavering helmsman his course — the 
course of true glory. If there be any thing in the his- 
tory of Ireland that she can reflect upon without a 
blush, nay, in view of which she may lift up her head, 
like Saul among the Hebrews, a head and shoulders 
higher than other nations, it is her patient forbearance, 
her long endurance, and her Christian fortitude. 

Men talk of progress, and in the present age, espe- 
cially, they love to expatiate on religious and civil lib- 
erty, on human rights, and universal toleration. But to 
the Irish people, and to them alone, these words are 
cruel mockery and bitter sarcasm. For them alone, of 
all people under the sun, there is no progress. TJoQ 
24* 



282 PERSECUTION. 

laws enacted to protect and advance commerce and the 
arts ai-e not for them, for to them commerce and trade 
are a delusion and a lie. They have no ships, no flag, 
no ports, no manufactures, no arts, no agriculture. True, 
they have genins, skill, hands, labor, inexhaustible treas- 
ures in the soil. But what are all these to the Irish 
people ? Nothing — absolutely nothing. Nay, worse, 
they are mere ministers to the pride and ambition of 
their haughty rulers — standing memorials of what Ire- 
land might have been, but was not permitted to be — 
of what she ought now to be, but cannot. Never have 
so noble a people been so cruelly treated. A war of 
civil and religious aggression has been constantly waged 
against them, and against their religion, by the English 
people, who, before the world, profess and vaunt them- 
selves to be the advocates of freedom. They forbid the 
Irish to engage in commerce, and then taunt them with 
want of enterprise. They have closed and double barred 
their schools and colleges, and then upbraid them with 
ignorance. They have stopped all the channels of com- 
munication with other nations, they have withheld all 
the means of advance, and have left no inducement to 
improve, and then denounce them as sworn enemies to 
progress. They pillage the poor (Catholics) to sustain 
the religion of the rich (Protestants) ; by offers of money 
and distributions of soup and bread, they urge the poor 
to deny their God, and traffic away their souls ; and then 
— mark this ! — if they comply, despise them as hypo- 
ci-itical soupers, selling a birthright for a mess of pottage ; 
and if they refuse, which, thank God, in nearly every case 
they do, accuse them of obstinacy and incurable super- 
stition. Thus have been tried every means that could be 
layented by the ingenious malice of the most determined 



IRELAND. 283 

and powerful enemies, m order to crush and ruin Ire- 
land, and erase her very name from the map of the world. 
4. But notwithstanding this long-continued, ingen- 
ious, unfeeling, and unrelenting civil and religious per- 
secution and oppression, Ireland still stands erect — 
uncrushed, unscathed. Her spirit dies not — quails not. 
Confined, pressed down, tied with many cords, her vital 
energies ooze forth from a thousand apertures, and pour 
forth their streams of civilization and Christianity over 
all the nations of the earth. Her emigrants are found 
in large numbers in every city on this vast continent, all 
the way from Newfoundland to California. They are 
rapidly spreading themselves over the wild regions of 
Australia. They are colonizing new, and hitherto un- 
peopled lands. They are found in the islands of the 
Pacific Ocean, on the burning sands of Africa, and amid 
the jungles of Hindostan. "Wherever they go they bear 
with them that character which is emphatically their 
own — generous hearts, respect for laws, untiring indus- 
try, incorruptible virtue, Christian faith. I speak of 
them in the mass. Of course, there are exceptions to 
the rule, as to every other. Were there not, the Irish 
would be more than men. What is denied them at 
home they find abroad — a field for the development 
and growth of their natural instincts. They are ani- 
mated, cheered, and filled with energy, by their contact 
with other people, and other institutions. They become 
thrifty and industrious, rich and prosperous, enterprising 
and renowned. See them as they are in this our own 
country. What portion of our population shine brighter 
with every private, domestic, and social virtue ? What 
portion are so little tainted with the wild excesses and 
fanaticism of the present age? Where do you find 



284 IRISH EMIGRANTS. 

Irishmen carried away, mad, with Mormonism, Miller- 
ism, Mesmerism, electro-biology, witchcraft, table turn- 
ing, spirit rapping, and negro slavery ? AVhat portion 
of our fellow-citizens are so little excited during seasons 
of election, and always so cheerful and contented with 
the results, so submissive to the laws under which they 
live, and so patient and forbearing when outraged and 
insulted ? But as they are in this our country we know 
that they are in all countries. For their character is 
always the same. No degree of cold can chill it, no 
excess of heat enervate it. 

5. Such, then, being the remarkable history and char- 
acter of the Irish people, it is an important question, 
what influence they are destined by divine Providence 
to exert upon the countries to which they emigrate. Is 
it, as their enemies, and the enemies of all religion assert, 
an influence for evil ? Is it to corrupt our youth, to 
breathe pestilence, to teach us crimes, to beg in our 
streets, to fill our prisons and workhouses ? Or is it 
rather to set us an example of virtue, to inculcate moral- 
ity, to infuse a healthful element into our social system, 
to preserve our political institutions, and save them from 
the sacrilegious attacks of unprincipled demagogues, and 
to bestow on us the priceless boon of the true faith, 
which alone can make men happy, and without which 
all other acquisitions are but as " sounding brass " ? 

From what has been already remarked of the Irish 
character, and of the people of Ireland, — and in all this 
I have spoken from the heart what I do believe and 
know, — the reader has already anticipated my answer. 
The influence of Irish emigrants cannot be other than a 
blessing to our country, or to any country to which they 
may emigrate. For, be it rememberedj the emigrant 



FUTURE PROSPERITY. 285 

brings with him the same traits that made him so esti- 
mable at home. He is not one that changes. He is not 
" every thing by starts^ and nothing long." He has marks 
upon his heart and character as indelible as those that 
are imprinted on his face, and which in every clime pro- 
claim his Celtic origin. These traits of heart and char- 
acter have already been mentioned, and I need not repeat 
them. One thing is certain ; they are precisely such as 
no Christian people need be ashamed of, and would enno- 
ble any nation. Fuse them into the American character, 
and I know of no people on the earth that would stand 
forth on the pages of history at once so dignified, so 
virtuous, so brave, so illustrious. 

The actual prosperity and future glory of these United 
States depend, and must always depend, 1. On jeal- 
ously guarding the Constitution against the insidious 
attacks of reforming demagogues ; 2. On the conserva- 
tion of a dignified peace, or the prosecution of a suc- 
cessful and glorious . war ; 3. Aiid above all, on our 
sustaining the name and character of a Christian people. 

Now, for the security and strength of each and all of 
these conditions of prosperity. Irishmen and their de- 
scendants will prove themselves, as they have done 
hitherto, not only efficient and powerful, but essential 
auxiliaries. 

1. We are now a free, united, and happy people. But 
what security have we that Ave shall long remain so ? 
"We need not go abroad in search of the enemies of our 
liberties, or the disturbers of our union. They exist 
and plot here at home. They are among us, and they 
are of us. They assail the Constitution with the most 
abusive epithets. They despise it. They reject it. 
They trample it under foot. Some do it openly, and 



286 AMEEICAN CONSTITUTION. 

candidly avow their intentions, and discourse of a 
*' HIGHER LAW," as thougli a law were necessarily 
higher and more worthy the respect of a nation be- 
cause framed and expounded by' them. Others do it 
indirectly, and bring into the field of politics new- 
fangled, mysterious-looking, and hitherto unheard-of 
engines, intended to batter the Constitution, to set at 
nought the rights of millions, working them under cover 
of darkness, while men sleep. Others, under the delu- 
sions of a morbid philanthropy, would cure acknowl- 
edged evils by the infliction of greater evils — would 
cure chicken pox by small pox — would reform the 
country by turning every thing upside down — would 
set free all the blacks, and reduce to slavery all the 
whites. The manifest tendency of the machinations of 
these, and many other classes of reformers, is to destroy 
the social and civil liberties of our countrymen, to dis- 
solve our Union, to let loose amongst us foxes and fire- 
brands, and to excite to civil wars and bloodshed. 

Our only safeguard against results so disastrous and 
subversive of order lies in the inviolable conservation 
of our national Constitution. For eighty years it has 
been our pilot ; has steered us clear from the rocks and 
shoals on which other nations have been rent asunder ; 
and during all that time has borne us along on a course 
of uninterrupted and unexampled prosperity — ia free and 
happy people. And no wonder. For the American 
Constitution is a masterpiece of human wisdom and 
foresight. It guarantees equal rights to every citizen, 
and protects them all equally in the maintenance of 
those rights. It takes no cognizance of sects in religion, 
or of parties in politics, but legislates for all with an 
impartial balance. It recognizes the laws and rights of 



lEISH FAITHFULNESS TO THE CONSTITUTION. 287 

other nations, and respects them, yet throws open its 
portals to all of every nation who desire to live under 
its benignant and happy rule. Hence there are no 
citizens in this republic who love it with a stronger 
and truer attachment, and a juster appreciation of the 
civil and social benefits it confers, and who are more in- 
terested in defending it, than Irish emigrants. There 
are reasons, too, w^hy they should feel a stronger attach- 
ment to the Constitution than emigrants from other 
countries. They speak our language, and therefore as- 
similate more readily with us. They have abjured and 
cast away the constitution of England. They never 
loved it. They never chose it. It was not theirs. They 
were neither happy nor free under it. The American 
Constitution they have chosen. They have resolved to 
live under it, and to die under it. They have sworn 
fealty to it. They revere it, and will stand by it. They 
will defend it against all enemies, and if need be, will 
die for it. For it secures to them all they demand — 
life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If ever 
Americans, seduced by the delusions of fanaticism, shall 
prove so ungrateful and unworthy as to lay hands on it 
and rend it, the Irish population of this country will 
contemplate the deed with sorrow and dismay, and will 
reverently gather up the fragments, and preserve the 
precious deposit against the day when men, weary with 
anarchy, tyranny, and blood, shall return to reason, and 
demand the restoration of constitu.tional liberty. 

2. War may be essential to the prosperity of some 
countries. Deprived of its excitement and enterprise, 
the people become enervated and idle, commerce is in- 
active, agriculture is neglected, famine, disease, and pov- 
erty prey upon the masses, and 4he state dwindles into 



288 NATURAL WEALTH OF AMERICA. 

insignificance. It was thus with ancient Rome. It is 
so, to some extent, with England and France at the 
present day. With our own countiy the case is widely 
different. Our true policy is peace. It is this that has 
enabled us to grow with such unexampled rapidity, and 
in a few years to become a great and formidable nation. 
We need no foreign conquests nor territorial acquisitions 
to enrich us. Our riches are in our lands, our forests, 
our rocks, mountains, rivers, factories, and our ingen- 
ious and useful mechanical inventions. To extract 
these riches we have room enough to work in, and food 
enough to supply the laborers, and all we want is men 
enough. Give the men, and no imagination can con- 
ceive the extent to which our national prosperity might 
extend itself. But these very men, strong and hale, 
active and industrious, come to us by thousands from 
Ireland. The industry and activity of these men call 
into requisition the money and genius of the country, 
and render war not only unnecessary, but a curse. Our 
interests being opposed to war, we shall be likely to re- 
tain and enjoy the blessings of peace. 

Moreovei", England is the only nation with which we 
should be likely to engage in a war ; but so long as the 
English armies are filled with Irish soldiers and Irish 
officers, a war with the United States is next to impos- 
sible. Irish troops could nev^r be made to invade tht 
refuge and the home of their exiled fathers and brothers, 
nor to send a bullet among the armies in which they are 
enlisted ; for it must be remembered that our armies 
will also be filled with Irish soldiers, and, in a measure 
at least, be officered by Irishmen or their descendants. 
For the same reason, a border war on the Canada fron- 
tier would be equally impjacticable, or, if commenced. 



NECESSITY OF CHRISTIANITY. 289 

would soon terminate by the surrender of the Canadian 
cities, and the fraternization of the troops. 

But if war should, unhappily, become necessary, — if 
the rights of our country should be assailed by a foreign 
power, or our territory invaded by an enemy, — Who 
would then constitute the rank and file of our armies ? 
Who would rush to the battle at the sound of the war 
trump ? Who would march with enthusiasm to repel the 
invader ? Who would stand forth to defend our altars 
and our hearths, and constitute at once the hope and- 
confidence of our families ? Who would fearlessly pre- 
sent their own breasts as a bulwark to receive the balls 
and blows aiijied. at ourselves ? Who ? Who but the 
now abused and despised Irish emigrants ! With the 
ardor and bravery characteristic of their race, they 
would enlist in our armies, and fight to the death for 
the honor and safety of our country. And if they 
should fall in battle, the victorious shouts of their com- 
panions in arms would be for them a grateful requiem. 

3. But, after all, the true secret of a nation's happi- 
ness, as of that of individuals, consists in its respect for 
religion, and submission to its precepts. Let a people 
be never so prosperous and rich, never so refined and 
chivalrous, never so warlike and victorious, but without 
Christianity, — and they are,after all, but a heathen people. 
Their civilization is no better than that of the Greeks 
and Romans of old. With all their refinement and 
bravery, and success in the arts, they must be classed 
with barbarians. Thus the Mexicans were barbarians 
before the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards. The 
Chinese, the Malays, the Turks are barbarians. 

Without Christianity, and consequently without su- 
pernatural graces, men follow and obey their natural 
25 



290 PROTESTANT SECTS. 

instincts. The accumulation of wealth, the possession 
of power, the avenging of injuries, and the love of all 
men, Catholics excepted, are with them the four cardi- 
nal virtues. Into such a state this country is rapidly 
sliding. It is the natural result of its Protestantism. 
Divided into innumerable sects, each asserting and 
proving from the Bible its claims to universal and im- 
plicit belief, the masses, little versed in theological 
studies, are bewildered, and utterly unaoie to choose ; so 
•they soon come to regard au religion as a figment, 
though a very useful and convenient one. They do not 
generally avow it in words, but it is evident from their 
ai-uous that such is their conviction. A man in this 
country may belong to any sect or to no sect ; he may 
be a mad enthusiast, a raving fanatic, or an avowed infi- 
del or deist, and yet, if he be rich, or educated, or infiu^ 
ential, he is as respectable as any man in the land ; and 
there is no class so aristocratic, no class so religious, that 
he may not become its honored associate. Preach to 
them of the cross of Christ and of penance, of purga- 
tory and of hell, and you preach to men who have no 
ears to hear ; but change your subject, and preach from 
the prophecies of Miller, and the Book of Mormon, or 
discourse of spirit worlds, and dancing, talking tables, 
or utter blasphemies against Christ, and you shall re- 
ceive the plaudits of millions of admiring listeners, and 
countless conversions will reward your labors. Now, 
what does all this portend ? Why, plainly enough, that 
the tendency of the country is to barbarism ; that is, to 
the rejection of all revealed and traditionary Chris- 
tianity. This downward tendency is so direct and swift 
that nothing under heaven can check it but a powerful 
opposing force. Thank God, there exists such a force. 



CATHOLIC FAITH, 291 

and it is in full and efficient action — a force that has 
hitherto driven back all the waves of impiety and irre- 
iigion, and compelled them to retire within the beds 
from which they rolled — a force that no gentilism or 
barbarism has ever yet withstood, or ever will withstand. 
That force is the power of the Catnolic faith — that faith 
which hath never failfeu, and against which the gates of 
hell have never prevailed — that faith which in the pres- 
ence of its bitterest enemies boldly avowed, " Thou art 
the Christ, the Son, of the living God." Every people 
that has ever been converted to Christianity has been 
converted by its means. Every nation which has been 
rescued from barbarism, present or impending, has been 
rescued by the timely interposition of the Catholic 
church. Here then lie the hope, the confidence, and 
the strength of Americans. We look to the Catholic 
church as the great ally that is to step forward, before 
it be too late to save the country from the deplorable 
conseq[uences of irreligion and indifference, which have 
already spread their roots wide and deep. 

But the instruments^^ — the agents for the work — 
where are they ? We seek in vain for them among the 
rich, and worldly wise, and the titled and honored. 
We shall find them among the poor and despised, 
among the lowly and ignorant ; in a word, among the 
emigrants from Ireland and their children. They, and 
they alone, as a class, possess the true Christian faith, 
and are not afraid or ashamed to avow it, and pub- 
licly to proclaim it. If we may judge of what they are 
designed by God to accomplish in the future from what 
they have already done, then they are manifestly des- 
tined to be the pioneers and heralds of the true faith 
from one extremity to the other of this land. So true 



292 APPEAL TO IRISHMEN. 

it is, as the apostle says, that " God hath chosen the foolish 
things of the world that he may confound the wise, and 
the weak things of the world that he may confound the 
strong, and the mean things of the world, and the things 
that are despised, that he may destroy the things that 
are, and that no flesh may glory in his sight." (1 Cor. 
i. 27-29.) 

Men of Ireland ! your mission is a glorious one. 
You are called to be apostles of Christianity — to bear 
the glad tidings of salvation to every nation — and to 
hold the torch of truth for those who are sitting in dark- 
ness. Bravely have you commenced the work assigned 
you. By your zeal for religion, and by your generous 
donations, you have already erected churches in every 
city on this vast continent. You have established schools 
and colleges for the instruction of youth. You have 
built and endowed asylums for the orphans and aban- 
doned. You have established printing presses for the 
diffusion of useful knowledge. You have supplied 
zealous and learned priests to minister to the millions 
that throng your churches. You have given us a hie- 
rarchy that would adorn any country in any age. Go 
on boldly with your work. Tear not opposition. Dread 
not persecution. You shall outlive them both. Over- 
come your enemies by your charity, your virtue, and 
your perseverance. 



THE END. 





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